Eyes Open
by Colemet Milinia
Summary: After the rebellion, the new reformed Panem met a sad fate. When things began to fall apart, the evil Capitol rose back to power. After being defeated twice, the want revenge. Colemet Mellark is the daughter of the two most famous Victors, and because of that, she's always in danger. Her guard is always up, but will she ever be safe from the Capitol's punishment?
1. Chapter 1

**Are you about to skip this? I'm sure a lot of people will. **

**Hi. :) So this is a new story I'm writing, I've had the idea in my head for a very long time, but no clue how to start it. Because of this, I have to give credit to my good friend, ****Innocent Primrose Everdeen****, who really helped me with this chapter to start it. She literally wrote half of the conversation between Colemet and Airmet. This story would be nonexistent without her. I have no idea what I'd do without her. **

**Also before I start, I want to give shout outs to ****Lilypel**** and ****daydreambeliever321**** who are also good friends who constantly encourage me with my writing. All of them are amazing friends that I'm very blessed to have. This story is dedicated to them. :) **

**I want to add just three things. First, Cintia is pronounced SIN-sha. Just for reference in the story. Second, no, I did not spell Keeth wrong. I intentionally spelled it that way. Third, yes, I know many people write stories like this, but I promise for it to be as un-cliché as I can make it. I haven't read many like it, so I hope you readers enjoy it. :)**

**Ok. On with the story! **

Colemet

I walk out of my house in Victor's Village in the early light of the morning. It's Sunday. I promised to meet Airmet on the fence on the outskirts of the District before church.

I pull on a leather jacket that was passed down to me from my late grandfather to my mom to me. I put it on with my jeans and leave the house as quietly as possible. I don't want to wake anybody, but they'll know where I'll be.

I walk quietly through the empty streets of District 12. After the rebellion, my parents moved back to our house in Victor's Village and raised my brother, Cintia, who was named after my parents' stylists who died in the rebellion, and me there. I'm now fourteen and Cintia is twelve. People have moved back to District 12 since then, creating an actual District again.

After the rebellion, the Districts were still existent within the reformed Panem. After the 76th Hunger Games, the reformed nation really began.

But it didn't last for long.

Slowly but surely, our new society began to slip through our fingers. During the rebellion, the rebels were focused on winning the war, but they had failed to look ahead at what would come next for Panem. Paylor was elected president, but everything seemed to be thrown in to chaos.

Our government was desperate for help. They didn't know what to do. When someone came out of the blue claimed to have all the answers, the reformed Capitol was quick to jump for their help.

This person was a surviving government official from the previous Capitol, Archam Vanasby. He was a head to President Snow, the former president of Panem, and seemingly knowing all of his ways, he knew how to manipulate our new government in to going this way. He knew all of Snow's tricks, his ways to run the government and ways to control people. Eventually, he found himself to be our new president.

And when he rose to power, Panem did a down spiral. And fast.

Things went back to the way they were before the rebellion. The Capitol became cruel and rose back to what seemed like infinite power, now making what our reformation was powerless. The Districts are treated almost fairly now, which is a good change. But there was one thing that killed us all.

The Hunger Games were reintroduced.

Now that the Districts had defeated them twice, they were very angry with them, thus, the Hunger Games were brought back and as cruel as ever. It made me sick to think about.

Each year, the Reaping frightened me more and more, because now that the Capitol was back and angry, they wanted revenge.

And they wanted it on two people in particular.

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

They're my parents. And they're the sole beginning of the rebellion.

I must have hear the story from both of my parents a million times. They were both in the Hunger Games, and they were in it together. They thought they could win together, but the Capitol had played them in their little Game. But they didn't give them the satisfaction. They both almost commited suicide in order not to give the Capitol their Victor.

They stood up to them.

They outsmarted them.

And it worked.

The Capitol couldn't stand being without a Victor. So they had to accept two.

And if two teenagers could outsmart the Capitol, why couldn't the Districts?

They started a rebellion.

And now, the Capitol is mad. They want revenge.

And not just on them, on all of us, on our whole family. Including my brother. Including me.

And what better way to get revenge on my parents then hit them where it hurts them most?

Their daughter and their son.

They want us dead. And they could easily get what they want.

I'm in danger all of the time. I try not to think about it.

But that's hard when your parents are the two most famous Victors in all of Panem's history.

People know me. Some people do. For one thing, I look just like my parents. I have long blonde hair that matches my father's and the exact same blue eyes. My body resembles my mother's, I have a slight face and a slight figure like she does. My personality is a mix of both of my parents. I have mostly my father's good nature but the temper and stubbornness of my mother. I love to paint and I shoot bow and arrow. It's obvious I'm related to them.

People know me as the Mockingjay's daughter. People expect more of me because of that. People think I'm amazing, that I'm going to be important just like they are, that I'll be the next to do something big. That I'll start the next revolution.

If I don't end up dead first.

But I'm only fourteen. How on earth would I even do that? I can't save a nation of people just because my last name is Mellark.

That's a lot of pressure for a fourteen year old girl.

It's hard to live with that kind of thing constantly hanging over my head. It's a blessing and a curse.

As I walk towards my meeting spot with Airmet, it all runs through my mind as I think of the Reaping. It makes me feel even more sullen than I was before. I try to hide it as I approach the fence. I've never told Airmet any of this. Not even who my parents are. I feel guilty hiding it from her, but it's only for the best. I hop up on the fence next to her.

"Colemet, " she says as I sit next to her, seeing my face. "Cheer up. It'll all work out." She must know what I'm upset about. She gives me a smile and upturns my frown.

I try to manage a weak smile, but it fades quickly. "You don't know that," I say. "What if we get picked."

She smiles. She's way too happy under the circumstances. "I know you'd win," she says.

I shake my head at that. "But I can't kill. I can't," I say. My voice sounds a little more vicious than I intend it to be. "I'd be dead in a second."

Airmet looks down. I sigh. I'm not meaning to take my anger out on her. "Air, I'm sorry… I'm just worried is all."

"I know…" she says. She leans over and hugs me.

Airmet always knows how to make me feel better. I smile briefly, but it fades again. Even she's not enough to cheer me up today.

She leans over and kisses my cheek like the sister she is to me. "Please be happy? It'll all be fine!"

I shake my head. There's no positive spin on this in my mind, because even if I'm not reaped. I have the Capitol still hanging over my head.

"If you get picked," she says, putting a hand on my knee. "Then I'll go for you."

I instantly reject that. "No," I say sternly. "I won't let you do that." I sigh. "I'm more worried about you than me. And Keeth…"

Keeth is my other best friend. I've known him since I was twelve, but he means more than anything to me. He knows everything about me.

"Colemet, you can save us. I can just feel it," Airmet says.

I shake my head. Why do people tell me that? Because I'm the Mockingjay's daughter? That means nothing. But yet, she doesn't even know that. She doesn't know who I really am. I'm too afraid to tell her. "Why would you say that?"

"You're amazing." She smiles at me. "Remember how we met?"

I remember that day perfectly. I was going to the woods outside of the District when I came across the fence. I was eight, and I saw a little girl, about seven years old. She had he blonde hair back in a pony tail, a slim figure, and a childlike innocent face that could only be described as beautiful. She was stuck under the fence. I ran to help her, but when I got over there, I heard something. It was a faint, familiar buzzing noise. I recognize it instantly and my eyes go wide.

The fence was about to turn on. And it would electrocute the girl.

I worked fast, as the girl was crying. I took out a knife that I carried with me and hooked it on to the wire fence. I twist it around, reshaping is to get the little girl out.

I got it just in time. The little girl came out and my knife was still lodged there. The second before I pull it out, I feel a shock up my arm that came through the knife. But I was ok. She was safe. And she was Airmet.

I remember that day as she says it. "I'm not amazing," I snap. It's an instinct, I didn't mean to. "Sorry…" I apologize. I get back to my point. "Air, what I did that day was nothing. That doesn't mean I'm amazing. That doesn't mean I could save us."

"You could," she says.

Even when she doesn't know who I am, she still thinks I can save us. "Why?" I ask. "How on earth could someone like me save us?"

"You're an amazing archer, and…" She looks down a bit.

"Archery has nothing to do with saving us… I… I can't…" I tell her. I don't know where she's going with this.

She reaches over and hugs my neck. I hug her back. I feel guilt in the back of my mind knowing I'm not telling her who I really am. But then something gets me. I pull away and look at her. "Air…" I say. "Why haven't I ever met your family?" Remembering that I'm not telling her about my family, I realize I've never heard of hers.

She looks around nervously. "Um…" she mutters.

She's keeping something from me. "Be honest," I tell her.

"Well…" she starts. Her eyes keep darting around. "Well… my dad's a Victor."

I can't believe it. I think on it for a second and realize it. "Haymitch? Your father is Haymitch?" He's the only other Victor aside from my three other neighbors, who have kids I know of. But Haymitch isn't one of them.

"Well… uh…" she stutters over her words.

"Airmet," I warn her. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not!" she retorts defensively. She sighs and calms down. "Haymitch Abernathy. He's my father, the Victor of the 50th Hunger Games."

I can't believe she didn't tell me, even though I didn't tell her my own. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well…" she starts. "How come I've never met your family?"

I'm prepared for this. "You didn't answer my question."

She groans. "Because… it's kind of great… and I'm… not."

I scoff at her. "Aw, Air…" I hug her gently. "You're great, and you always will me. You don't need to hide things for me, ok?" I hear her sniff. "You know you can be honest with me, right?"

"Yes," she says. She looks me directly in the eyes. "I'm sorry, but… can you be honest with me?"

Her eyes beat in to mine, but I don't let my gaze falter. I feel guilt in the back of my throat but manage to croak out, "Of course," anyway.

"I promise you can tell me," she says quietly.

I sigh. She knows I'm lying, yet I still do it through my teeth. "It's nothing…" I try to say it as convincingly as possible.

"Colemet," she says firmly. "You're lying through your teeth."

She knows me too well. I sigh. I can't tell her. "It's not important."

"_You're _important," she says.

"I'm not important," I reply, even though I've been told that my whole life.

She frowns at me. I know she won't be happy until I tell her. But I can't do that. I'm not going to risk losing someone else to that. "Don't frown," I say. "Be happy."

"Then tell me," she replies.

I sigh and shake my head. "I can't." My voice creaks. "I'm sorry. It's for your own good." It's bad enough that Keeth knows, I won't risk Airmet too.

Airmet groans in frustration. "Why do you keep secrets from me?" she demands. "Why don't you trust me?"

"I do trust you!" I say. "It has nothing to do with that. It's not you at all. It's… it's me." It's the complete truth, I CAN'T tell her because of me, I'd just put her in danger. She doesn't know what's at stake. I can't risk her life. It's being risked already. I won't let anything bad happen to her. "I'm doing this because I care about you." My voice is small and quiet.

Airmet sighs. "Fine, Colemet," she says. "Whatever."

I sigh to. She's making off like she's ok, but I know she's not exactly happy with me. "Air, please, you'll understand one day."

"If you say so," she says. She leans over and hugs me anyway. The church bells ring.

We break apart. "Come on," she says quietly. "Time for church."

We hop off of the fence. After church, I see the one person I need most right now.

Keeth.


	2. Chapter 2

I met Keeth two years ago, when I was twelve and he was fourteen. We met each other while we were in the woods.

I've always loved going in the woods. I can go back there for anything, whether it's an escape or for fun. It doesn't matter, I always had the woods.

It let me escape from the District, and when I did, it helped develop me. I learned how to shoot bow and arrow from my mother back there. She's the greatest archer I've ever seen. She says I inherited the trait, even though I'm nowhere near as good as her. I can shoot pretty accurately, but it's almost unnecessary. I don't hunt, and I never will. I always take my bow and a sheath when I go back there anyway. For protection.

I also learned how to paint back there. My father gave me paints when I was little. He taught me everything I know. I find myself constantly looking through a book that him and my mother made together. She wrote down all of the plants she knew and he painted them for her. I found it fascinating, and I've just about memorized every single one from having my eyes on it so often. Now that I can take up painting on my own, my father inspired me. The woods are my muse.

On that specific day when I was twelve, I went in to the woods with high anticipation. I had a small pack on my back that contained my paints. I snuck under the gate in the early morning, just after the sun rose and the light was clear. I knew exactly where I wanted to go.

I'd been going to the woods for years now, and over time, I developed a favorite spot. It was a small, cleared area surrounded my Cucumber trees and Black Chokeberry bushes. And today, after looking at countless maps, calendars and books, a luxury I'm fortunate to have as daughter of Victors, I was going to paint it. At s specific time, the light would be on it just right and the flowers on them would be just beginning to bloom. It would be nearly perfect.

I knew exactly what I was out for when I crossed under the fence, but I had no idea what I would get instead.

I made my way quietly and stealthily under and gate and was swiftly running through the clearing just before the woods. The pack containing my paints bounced again. I was too excited to remember to grab my bow, but I was smart enough to grab a knife. My blonde hair was in a braid to my side. I like wearing it like that because it's how my mother used to wear hers. I had on a different jacket that day, too, but this one was a nice green and almost the same material as denim. To my luck, it blended with the trees.

But I didn't go unseen.

As I start walking with purpose through the woods, I get more comfortable, thinking I'm alone.

But I wasn't.

As I pass a seemingly harmless tree, out of nowhere, someone I don't have time to see jumps out from behind it, crunching the leaves with their footing, and grabs me around my waist with strong arms. Instantly, I scream.

"Stop screaming or you'll get us both killed," says a low but sharp voice that I instantly determine is male. I don't listen to him and I yell on, struggling in his grasp.

His arms are clamped around my waist, holding me there, my back against him to keep me from moving. I can tell he's taller than me because the back of my head is against his chest. Since I'm still screaming, one of his arms leaves my waist and a hand clamps over my mouth. I stop screaming. The other one stays around my waist.

"Stop struggling," he says in a more gentle voice. "I won't hurt you; I just want to talk to you."

For a minute, I stop, but I don't come close to trusting him. I'm illegally in the woods; I don't trust anyone. But then again, so is he. I still don't trust him.

I feel is grip on me loosen a bit. After a minute of silence, he removes his hand from my mouth. I'm breathing deeply, my heart is racing.

Finally, after seeing my stillness from before, he decides to let me go completely, thinking I'll stay put. But that's his mistake.

The second he lets go of me, I take off running in the direction I intended to go before. I go as fast as I can; I don't even dare to look back at my captor.

I hear his voice again. "WAIT!" he yells to me. "STOP!" I don't listen.

I can tell by the even crunching of leaves behind me that he's chasing me now. My stomach drops. Foot step, foot step. He's running faster than me. He'll catch me.

I try and go faster but I can't. My lungs are burning and I even have to slow a little. I hear him getting closer to me. His heaving breaths get closer and closer. Finally, I know he's only a few feet behind me.

As we run, I hear something hit the ground, the clank of metal. A second later, I feel a hand on the bend of my arm. My heart leaps and I almost scream again.

Somehow, when he reaches for me, he manages to trip. His impact towards the ground plus his grip on my arm causes me to swing around in the direction I came from. When his hand releases me and he falls all the way, I get thrown off balance and I fall face first towards the ground too.

When I hit the ground, I feel sharp pain hit my abdomen, but I try and ignore it, despite the extreme pain it caused. Instead, I roll over onto my back and try to recover, but my captor recovers faster than me. I realize I chose a very bad day to forget my bow.

Within a second, he's over next to me. He puts an arm over my waist again to keep me on the ground. I try to sit up, but his other hand pushes my upper half back down to the ground. He leans over me and puts his arm across my chest and shoulders to ensure that I don't somehow sit up again. He's really strong.

I stop struggling for a minute. We're both breathing deeply, staring at one another. He says one word through his breaths. "Stop." I don't say anything. I just lay there, keeping still under his hold for the time being. It's the first time I actually get a good look at him.

He's a teenager, probably a little older than I am. He has light brown hair that falls over his forehead and almost to his eyes. His eyes are emerald green. He has olive skin and he's really muscular, but not to a grotesque point. He's wearing a light gray, long sleeved shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up and cargo pants. He has an almost severe look on his face, but not to the extreme point that looks like he'll harm me. But in addition to that, he also has me trapped.

After I take in what he looks like for a brief moment, I start to struggle to all of my ability again. It's almost useless, but I try anyway. He's keeping me down pretty well.

"Stop… struggling…" he says through his attempts to contain me. I don't listen and struggle on. I make frustrated noises. He keeps trying to calm me down, but it's not working. The longer he holds me, the more anxious I become.

Then, in swift motions, he takes his arm from my waist and quickly replaces it with his knee on my hip. It's not restraining the entire length of my body like his arm was, but it's enough to continue keeping me down. He twists his arm and puts his hand in to his own pack that he has, which is sitting beside him at this point. He reaches in and pulls something out that I can't see since it's clenched in his hand.

Then, in a fast move that I barely even see, his hand swings around toward my arm. I'm doing too much struggling to see what he's doing.

Suddenly, I feel a pinch in the crook of my arm. I don't know what it was, but a minute later, I start to feel weak. All of the fight seems to leave my body. I keep trying, but I eventually feel myself go limp. I want to close my eyes and sleep. I try not to let myself.

As I fight to keep my eyes open, I feel my captor's arms release me, but I feel too frail to even get up, let alone escape. Instead, I feel one of his arms slip under my back and the other under the bend of my knees. He lifts me up and starts walking. I'm too tired to even feel the fear I should.

As I sway back and forth in his arms as he walks, I feel my eyes finally close and everything goes black.

…

When I wake up, I almost do so with a start, but then I stop myself just in time. Instead, I slowly open my eyes and look around me.

I'm laying down on a large, slanted rock. My head is resting on my pack that I brought along. I look up and see the tall trees around. We're still in the woods.

My captor is sitting next to me. He doesn't notice I'm awake. He looks just as he did before, maybe even a little tired from carrying me who knows how far. He's holding a severe looking knife that makes me cringe and using it to cut off layers of bark on a stick to sharpen it to a point. Maybe it's just busy work until I wake up and he does what he wants with me. Though I think if he intended to hurt me, he would have done so by now. Fear pangs in my chest anyhow.

I consider pretending to be asleep again, but decide against it. He's going to realize I'm awake eventually. I might as well get it over with now.

I blink a few times to clear my eyes completely and then I try to sit up. Without even looking at me, my captor says, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I instantly know he's right. With even the little bit that I tried to sit up, my head swims severely. I let my head flop back down on to my pack, feeling the paint canisters in it as I do.

I groan at the pain. I speak to him for the first time. "What'd you do to me?"

He turns to me and holds up an empty syringe with a needle on the end. "Sleep syrup," he answers me. He smirks. "And a few extra things to make you stay put." He turns back to what he was doing with his knife.

The sentence disturbs me. I suppose that's what's making my head swim; it's so I can't go anywhere.

"How long have I been asleep?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "A little less than an hour." He frowns. "I didn't give you _that _much."

I roll my eyes and scowl at him as I lay there next to him. "You didn't _have_ to drug me, you know."

He turns again and cocks his head toward me. "_You _weren't cooperating."

"_You _didn't have to try and kidnap me," I retort back to him. My voice is harsh.

"I wasn't _trying _to kidnap you," he says. "I said I wasn't going to hurt you; I just wanted to talk to you. But you didn't listen." He rolls his eyes at me.

I narrow my own. "Fine," I snap. "I'm here. What do you want?"

He sighs and looks me up and down with curiosity. "Who are you?"

I look at him with disbelief. "What kind of a question is that?"

"A simple one," he replies. When I don't answer, he goes on to explain himself. "I've seen you out here before. You've never seen me, though. What is someone like you doing out here?"

I smirk. "I could ask you the same thing." I try to act tough, but it's obvious that he's in the superior position here.

He gives a tired smile and shakes his head. "You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

"Give me one good reason why I should." Our eyes pierce in to one another's.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "Because you're not really in a position to not to be cooperating with me."

I sigh in a huffy breath. He's right. Even knowing that, I still stay silent for the time being.

"How 'bout a name?" he asks. At least he's trying to reason with me.

I contemplate whether to tell him. I decide for it. My first name won't do any damage. "Colemet."

"Well, Colemet," he says smartly. "Last name?"

"Then tell me your first name." It's not a command as much as it is a negotiation.

He's silent for a moment and looks down. I guess he's contemplating it too. Finally, he looks back up. "Keeth."

"Is that a lie?" I ask. It took him almost too long to answer.

"Nope," he replies plainly.

"Ok," I say. "I trust you." That was probably a mistake to say.

"So," he says now. "Last name."

I really don't want to tell him. If he's from District 12, which he obviously is, then he'll know who I am. I take a breath. "Mellark." I say it very quietly.

He raises his eyebrows at me. His eyes shift over me, like he's studying me to see if I'm lying. His eyes stop on mine. "I believe it," he says. "Daughter of the Victors, huh?" I slowly nod.

"So," I say, turning the subject and mimicking him. "Last name."

"I never agreed to that," he retorts.

"I think it's only fair," I shoot back.

He cocks his head to the side. "Fine," he says. He pauses. "Amberston."

Now my eyebrows raise at him. I know that name. Amberston. Baylie Amberston won the Hunger Games years back. When she got married, her husband even took her last name. And this kid must be their son. "Son of a Victor?" He nods as I did.

"I see."

Silence falls between us. As it does, I can focus on my surroundings. I notice something I didn't before. It's the aching pain on my stomach again. It's external, not internal. "Why does my stomach hurt so much?" I ask, assuming that it had something to do with him wanting to keep me put here. I reach my hand up to touch the spot.

"Oh. _That._" he says bitterly. Just before I touch it, Keeth grabs my hand away. "Don't touch it," he instructs. I pull my hand away and put it back at my side. Instead, he carefully pushes the front of my jacket aside. He gently takes the hem of my shirt between his fingers and peels it back slightly, revealing a line of bloody gauze where I feel the pain.

I try to sit up to look, but when I do, Keeth puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back. "Stay down," he commands. Instead, I tilt my neck up to see.

He begins explaining. "When I was trying to reach you while you ran, my knife fell off of my belt. When I actually did reach for you, the way I fell caused you to twist around. When you fell, the knife sliced you." He sighs. "That was entirely my fault. I'm really sorry." That explains the clang of the metal and the sharp pain I felt.

I take a deep breath and bear the pain through my teeth. "It's ok," I say as convincingly as possible. "I've seen worse."

He manages a chuckle. "I'm sure," he says.

He leans over my body and looks at the wound. Carefully, he peels off the blood-soaked gauze that was there before and leaves the open cut. I look myself. The gash is pretty deep. I wince a little.

He studies the wound carefully. Carefully then, he takes his hand and gently runs his fingers over the cut, getting excess blood on them. His fingertips explore the gash, surveying the damage. His touch against it makes me shudder. He puts his other hand on my arm as a signal to me. "Relax," he tells me. I release the breath that I realize I'm holding.

It's a lot easier once I relax. I release all of the tension in my muscles and take a breath. Keeth's fingers sting against me as he runs them over the cut, but it's also relieving in a way knowing that he's trying to help it.

"Does this hurt?" he asks, referring to his fingers exploring the wound. I bite my lip with my eyes closed and nod.

He pulls his hand away. Instead, he reaches in to his bag again and pulls out clean gauze. He carefully lays it over my cut and pulls the hem of my shirt back down.

"Thanks," I say with what I can manage of a smile.

"It's the least I can do," he replies. "It was all my fault."

He's still sitting right next to me and within my reach, so I push him for blaming himself. "It's fine," I say. "Really. I'll be ok." I realize I'm still laying down. "Do you think I'm ok to get up now?"

"Probably," he replies. "I'll help you." He gets to his feet and offers me his hands. I take them in my own and he helps me to my feet. My head swims a little, but not nearly as bad. My body feels pain all over it, but not too severe. I feel instant pain where my cut is. My hand instantly thinks to go there, but Keeth stops it just in time. "I told you not to touch it," he says.

I lift an eyebrow at him. "_You _touched it."

"But that wasn't out of impulse," he says matter-of-factly. I roll my eyes. "Can you walk alright?" he asks.

"Um… maybe," I say. I take a few steps, but I begin to shake and wobble. I almost collapse, but Keeth catches me from behind.

He lets out a chuckle. "Guess not," he says. When he steadies me again, he holds out his arms. "Here," he says. "I'll carry you until we get to the fence."

I lift my eyebrow at him again. "Are you sure?" I ask. I have no idea how far we are from the fence.

Now he lifts his eyebrows at me. His eyes shift up and down my body. "You're skinny. I think I can handle it." I don't argue when he lifts me up in to his arms like I weigh no more than a cat.

When we finally get to the fence, he puts me down. It takes me a second to stand properly and I need his help. Now realizing it, we're almost going to the same place, somewhere in Victor's Village. "You sure you'll be ok?" he asks.

I shrug. "I hope."

"I'll walk you there," he says. I don't argue again.

He walks with me all the way to Victor's Village while I lean against him for support. His house comes before mine, so he left before I got to my house. I was happy about that; I don't even want to think about what my parents would say if they saw me with him.

We stop at his driveway. He turns to me. "Well, I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other soon enough." I'm confused. I don't know what he means. But instead, he just smirks the way I've noticed him doing all day and says. "Take care, Colemet." Then he turns and walks in his house.

When I get home, I manage to keep my gash under wraps from my family, occasionally sneaking gauze. The other effects his medicine had on me ware off quick enough. I keep quiet. I don't want my family to know about Keeth yet.

For weeks and weeks after, me and Keeth cross paths in the woods. We eventually became what we considered friends. We could just talk to each other. We found out a lot about one another.

For starters, I found out Keeth was fourteen, he was two years older than me. He told me about his family, his mother was a Victor in the 79th Annual Hunger Games. She won, yet she killed only two people. She even tells Keeth how much it haunts her that she killed. I know I'd be just like that.

From what I understand, he's just like his mom, brave, smart, and strong. I'm not sure about his dad. He mentioned that his dad left when he was very young. He's an only child.

Keeth eventually becomes the only person who knows everything about me. About me, my parents, everything. I tell him what it's like, how much danger I'm in. And he listens. He doesn't let it hurt him like I worry with other people, like Airmet. I pour my heart out to him. I feel safe with him, especially outside the confines of the District.

Eventually, I tell my parents about him. I try not to give details, just that I met a friend and that we've become really good friends. When I describe him to my mom, what he's like and especially when I bring up his age,, she starts to cry. She cries because of the similarities of us and her and her best friend, Gale, who she hasn't heard from in years. Gale was even two years older than her like Keeth is to me.

It's an amazing thing. Me and Keeth.

We're the best of friends. Together, nothing could hurt us.

Or so we thought.


	3. Chapter 3

I think about that day every time I go to see Keeth in the woods. Which included today.

When I glanced around in church today, I saw Keeth. He smiled and winked at me, signaling that we were still going to meet. I tried to smile back, but with tomorrow hanging over me, I couldn't do it right. When he saw that, he scowled. I knew I was going to hear about it later.

I tried to pay attention in church. After the rebellion, Panem introduced churches in the Districts. My family has been going since I was little and I love it beyond my fullest extent. I wonder how after the evil Capitol rose back up again why our churches still exist. Why would such a cruel, demented government still include such a beautiful thing in our nation? I wasn't complaining, though; I was glad to have something so comforting to hold on to. I knew Keeth appreciated it too.

When the church bells rang and the service let out, I went home quickly, not even waiting for Cintia or my parents. I changed in to my clothes I was wearing this morning as fast as I could. I slung my bow over my shoulder and put a sheath of arrows on my back. I decided to leave my paints. It was the day before the Reaping; Keeth and I would be doing too much talking-or maybe more silence- without leaving time to paint. Just as I was about to leave, the rest of my family came in the door.

Cintia took one look at me and asked, "Where are you going?"

"The woods," I answered prominently. "To meet Keeth."

My father smiled. My mother leaned over and kissed me on top of my head. "Have fun, sweetie," she said. They both watched me walk outside and towards the street. My mother stopped me. "Oh, and Colemet!" she calls. I stop and turn. "Don't be out too late," she said. "With tomorrow and…" she didn't finish her sentence. I looked to my father. His was expression stiff.

"I won't," I answer. My voice is neutral. "Bye," I call as I turn. Before I do, I see them wave.

I walked down the gravelly streets of District 12, my combat boots kicking pebbles around. People are out and about. I tried to give friendly smiles and wave to people I see, but my heart just isn't in it today. I'm relieved when I finally reach the secluded peace of the gate, away from more people.

Now I smile when as pass the very same tree where Keeth first encountered me and laugh as I head towards the rock where I awoke that day. There and my favorite spot is where we meet. One or the other. Today it happened to be the rock, though we'd probably end up at my favorite spot at some point. I needed the comfort of it.

I quietly approach the spot where I know Keeth will be. As I creep up, he doesn't hear or see me. I peer around a tree to see whether he's there or not. I'm always cautious in the woods now.

I see him, not but a few feet away from where I'm standing. He has a knife raised and braced in his right hand. He throws it in the direction of a tree about fifteen feet away from him. The blade strikes square in the middle of the trunk.

I come around from behind the tree with an actual smile on my face. "Nice shot," I say, now making my presence known.

He jumps for a second, not expecting me to be here. He smiles. "Hey," he says. He peers around behind me at where I came from. "Gosh, Colemet, you're so quiet."

I shrug. "It's a gift," I say sarcastically as I approach him.

"Ha-ha," he says mockingly. I push him to the side. He pushes back. It makes me chuckle. I forget about my worries for a minute, just being here with him.

He sits down on the large slanted rock and pats the spot next to him with his left hand, motioning for me to sit. I do so. When I do, I lean and put my head on his shoulder.

He sighs. I feel his expression change even though I can't see it. Without looking up, I ask, "What?"

He sighs again. "What was wrong with you in church this morning?" He knows me too well.

At that, all of the happiness I felt a minute ago seems to vanish. I sigh now. "I think you can guess," I say quietly.

"The Reaping," he replies. I nod with my head still on his shoulder. His arm comes up around my back and his hand goes to my shoulder. He pulls me tighter. "I thought we talked about this."

"We have," I confirm in a small voice.

"Didn't I tell you that you don't need to worry?" he reminds me.

"Yes," I say. "But I don't believe you." At least I'm completely truthful.

"Why not?" he asks. "Neither of us need to. Our names are only in there as much as they have to be. Five for me, three for you. That's it. Why are you so worried?"

I sigh. "You know why," I tell him. And he does.

"Colemet…" he starts. "The Capitol isn't going to do that. They're above that at this point." His grip tightens.

"The Capitol isn't above _anything_," I say. "They want me dead, Keeth." I feel the poison in my words. I've never really said it out loud before. "And if they really do, they'll get what they want. This is just an opportunity for them. An open door." I sigh again. I feel tears threaten in the back of my eyes.

He shakes his head. "They've left you alone during the Reaping for the past two years. What makes you so sure they'll start now?"

I know this answer in my head. "Cintia's twelve now. They could take us together," I say. "Plus, it's a Quarter Quell. They have all the opportunity in the world."

My voice is really shaky from the tears I'm trying to hold back now. When I blink, they spill out of my eyes. I feel Keeth shift closer to me, and as if on cue, his other hand comes up to my face and he gently brushes my tears away with his thumb. I don't know how he knows, he hasn't even turned his head. He knows me so well. That's how he got everything about me out of me. I'm usually closed up and reserved, I don't trust too many people, but somehow, Keeth managed to get his hands on every secret I've ever had, anything in the world that I've kept from him. He somehow figured me out entirely. And I still ask myself how.

"They wouldn't do that," Keeth answers, breaking my train of thought.

"And why not?" I ask through my tears.

"Think about it, Colemet," he says. "If it somehow occurred that you and Cintia just got reaped together by sheer coincidence, the son and daughter of two of the most famous Victors in all of Panem, no one would believe it. And that'd cause trouble for the Capitol. Trouble they're not willing to deal with."

I sniff. I know he's right. But he's also missing something. "That doesn't mean one of us won't get reaped."

"It's not so bad…" he tries. I cut him off before he can finish.

"You've heard the stories our parents told us about the Arena," I say. And we have. We've discussed the stories to each other before. We know what our parents have seen, we've almost seen it in our own minds. It's a scary, and worse than that; it was real.

Keeth sighs. I'm too stubborn; I can't be talked out of this. "You need to stop worrying," he says. "And just hope for the best."

"The best is too much to hope for," I retort quietly.

"Stop," he says. "I'm serious." I feel him stiffen. I keep quiet.

"I'm sorry, Keeth," I say apologetically after a long silence. "I can't help it."

"Yeah," he says stiffly. "I'm sure."

"Don't be mad," I say pleadingly. "Please. You know how I get. You know that… You know everything else, too…" The last sentence comes out mumbled.

I feel him straighten a little. "What was that last part?"

"Nothing," I respond quickly, almost too quickly. "I mean, it's nothing…" He wasn't supposed to hear that.

"Come on, Colemet." He gets to the point; he's not messing around with me. "I know you better than that."

I sigh. "Exactly," I say. "That's _just _the point."

He nudges my head off of his shoulder and looks at me with a confused expression. "What are you talking about?" he asks me.

"You!" I say. I stand up. "How on earth did you manage to do it?"

"Do what?" he asks as he looks up at me, still confused.

"Everything!" I reply, almost yelling. Keeth looks taken aback. "I'm one of the most reserved people probably ever, I never let anyone in, I don't tell people anything. How did you manage to get everything out of me?"

I don't know why this is all bursting out of me now. Maybe it's everything pent up in me from the upcoming Games. Maybe it's just the realization of what Keeth has really done now. I don't know. But either way, whatever has poured out of me isn't anger, but I can't exactly distinguish what it is.

Keeth stays still. Then he nods slowly and solemnly. He glances up at me with an arched eyebrow. I see the smirk on his face that I've come to love. "You don't get it, do you?"

Now I'm confused. I cross my arms over my chest. "Get what?"

He stands up and looks down at me. His smirk is broader now. "This has nothing to do with me. It's just you."

I look at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course it's—"

He cuts me off. "Colemet," he says. He takes a step closer to me. "You're not used to people caring about you."

"That's not true," I retort. "A lot of people care about me. _Too _many people care about me."

He shakes his head. "Then you shouldn't be so reserved with so many people who care about you, right?"

"Well… it's different," I say. "My family cares, but in a different way. With everyone else… it's… it's not…"

"Real?" he finishes for me. "Exactly."

I go silent. I feel my expression soften. He goes on. "You're not used to having someone care about you. _I _care about you. And now that you do have someone, something so rare in your life, you can't help but trust them. You don't know what else to do. That's why you trust _me_." He sighs. "Even so, I still had to manipulate you a bit. I _had _to get you to talk to me. Otherwise, I knew you'd get to a point where you would shut down. And I couldn't let that happen."

"You manipulated me to get me to talk?" I question in disbelief.

He doesn't exactly seem sorry about it. "It was for your own good."

It's hard to hear directly, but I know he's right. He does care about me, and I'm not used to that. But now realizing everything, what's been said, what's been done between us, it worries me knowing that he knows everything. It must show on my face or something.

"Colemet, you don't have to worry about me knowing everything," he says comfortingly, almost as if reading my mind. He puts one of his hands on my shoulder. His voice is quiet "I let you know that you could trust me for a reason. I told you on the day that I met you that I wouldn't hurt you. I meant it. And I still mean it now."

I can't help it. I basically collapse in to hugging him. I wrap my arms around him and fall in to his arms. My face is smushed up against his shoulder, but I don't care. I realize now how much I need someone like him, someone who's a friend, who will always be there for me. Someone who knows everything about me.

I feel his arms wrap around me, one hand resting on my back right where he can probably feel my heartbeat and the other is stroking my hair. He speaks through my hair. "You can trust me," he whispers.

"I know," I say in to his shoulder. I hug him tighter. He does the same.

After probably minutes of that, we finally break our embrace. Keeth sits back down on the rock. I follow him without hesitation. I start out sitting next to him, but I quickly move to laying down, my head in his lap. His hand reaches up and strokes my hair again.

We sit in silence for a while. I feel his steady hand move rhythmatically over my blonde hair, smoothing it down on my head. His hand is warm. I sigh. Finally, Keeth breaks the silence. "You have to be strong, Colemet," he says. When I glance up, he's shaking his head. "They're just waiting for you to break down."

I nod my head against his leg. "I know," I reply. "That's why I do it here."

He manages a smile at that. "You just have to be careful," he says seriously.

"I know," I repeat. I shake my head now. "Never in a million years will I give the Capitol what they want, Keeth. And that includes my surrender."

He lets out a chuckle. "There's the Colemet I know."

I smile. I'm not usually this torn up. It's just the day, the circumstance, everything is eating at me today. I'm usually better.

We both get lost in our thoughts again because we both end up silent. Eventually, after staring off in to the distance for a while, I feel my eye lids start to get heavy and my blinking slow. Eventually, my eyes close completely and I slowly drift off to sleep…

…

It's as if I'm right there, watching it happen.

I see what I know as the Cornucopia, giant and golden, standing in all its glory. On top of it, I see my mother, how I picture her young, with a loaded bow that she's about ready to launch. I see my father young, too, but he's in a headlock in the clutches of a blond, overly-muscular teenage boy who's battered and bloody.

My heart picks up and breaths come in short gasps. I look down at myself, but there's no body for me to be contained in. As if I don't exist but I do at the same time. Huh.

I watch the scene unfold. I gulp in my nonexistent body. I've seen it before. My father draws an 'X' on the blonde boy's hand from blood. I shudder. I know what happens next.

I see my mother's fingers release the arrow and go through the hand. I cringe and scream, but no noise comes out of my nonexistence. I see him fall down off of the Cornucopia. I watch the mutts pounce on him like he's nothing.

I scream nothingness again. I watch the mutts tear him apart. The blood, the empty look, the eyes of the fallen tribute wolves. I can't bear it…

…

I wake with a start and a scream stuck in my throat. I don't release it and I don't open my eyes. I feel myself breathing hard, almost gasping with each breath. My face is wet, either from tears or sweat. I can't even tell.

I let my eyes flutter open now. I see Keeth's face, looking back at me gently. I'm almost curled in to a ball on his lap, gathered in his arms, holding me to him, cradling me like a child. I turn my head slightly and look around.

We're in my favorite spot, surrounded by Cucumber trees and Black Chokeberry bushes.

I feel tears stream down my cheeks now. I'm breathing deeply, the breaths coming in short gasps. I feel Keeth's hand stroking my hair, trying to comfort me and calm me down. I rest my head against his chest and just let him hold me.

I have that nightmare every year when the reaping comes.

It wasn't a long dream, but it had to be long enough for him to carry me here like he always does when it happens.

A heaving breath crossed with a sob escapes my lips. I feel Keeth pull me closer and hug me tighter.

"Shh, shh…" he tries to comfort me. "It's ok. You're ok. It was only a dream."

I let out a short sob and hiccup. "No," I manage to say. "It was real."


	4. Chapter 4

I make my way home in the afternoon, which makes me arrive in plenty of time. I throw off my muddy boots at the door and go inside. When I get home, my mom is making dinner. We're having dandelion soup, which we always have the night before the Reaping. My mom says it reminds her of when she first saw my father when she tossed her the burnt bread and she found dandelions for her and my deceased aunt Prim, a story I never get tired of hearing, even though I've heard it at least a million times. The dandelions have always given us hope, so that's why we have them. For hope.

As expected, it's a pretty silent dinner. Cintia is barely even eating, but then again, neither am I. Even though we have dandelion soup on these days, I rarely find myself ever finishing it. Cintia usually eats no matter what, but tonight his face looks sullen as he pushes his food around in his bowl.

My dad speaks up. "What's wrong, kids?" he asks. As if he even needs to. He doesn't wait for a response. "Just try and eat. It'll make you feel better."

"I'm not too hungry," I say, quiet and croaked. I push my bowl slightly away from me.

"Me neither," Cintia agrees in almost the same voice.

I shift my gaze up and see my parents glance at one another briefly; seemingly sending messages that I can't understand. My mother sighs and looks back down. It makes me sigh too.

"I think we can be finished now," my mother says. She stands up and carries her bowl to the sink in silence. Cintia and I follow her lead with our father bringing up the end.

When my dad picks his bowl off of the table only a few inches, he drops it again. He lets out a stuttered breath and grasps at the back of a chair. He closes his eyes.

I gasp slightly, but my mother has a knowing look in her eyes. She silently walks over and puts her arms around his waist and leans her head on his back. I hear the words barely come out a whisper out of her mouth. "It'll be ok."

I feel the ever slightest smile form on my lips. They love each other a lot.

And that's when I hear my father's reply. "You love me. Real or not real?"

"Real."

…

The next morning, I wake up earlier than is probably healthy for me. The sun isn't even close to up and the moonlight is still shining through the window drapes. I turn on to my side and ball up under the cool sheets. I touch my forehead. It feels damp. I'm sweating. I must have had a bad dream.

I sit up for a minute and look around. Everything is quiet around me. My blonde hair is a mess on my head and sticking to my shoulders, which are apparently also damp with sweat. I look down at my hands. Yup, they're ghostly pale. It had to be a nightmare. Yet somehow, I don't remember it occurring.

I look around the room. There seems to be a body in the extra bed across the room, mostly used in the past when Cintia was afraid and he didn't want to be alone. I see his mess of curly blonde hair lying on the pillow and I smile. I carefully lay myself back down on my own pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. Within five more minutes, I know I have absolutely no shot at sleeping anymore. I lay there anyway.

I don't let myself get too caught up in my thoughts; I know at this point that nothing good will come out of that. I sigh and just think logically. What are the odds of me being picked? The odds are completely in my favor, and even more in Cintia's. We'll both be fine. And the Quell? How bad could it be really? When that thought comes, I quickly push it away.

And Keeth is right. If somehow Cintia and I both get picked, people are going to know something's up. It would be too much of an unfortunate coincidence. And that's trouble for the Capitol. They're not that stupid.

I sigh and feel my cheek against the cold pillow. Keeth was right. About everything. I really need to listen to him more often. And I will.

I'll just hope for the best.

And with that pleasant thought in my head, the still silence and steady breathing of Cintia sleeping soundly is enough to make me drift off…

…

I don't get to sleep much longer. When I wake up again, it's nearly dawn. And hour has probably passed. Now I _really _know that sleep isn't going to happen again, so I just sit up in bed.

Within a few minutes, I see a faint light in the hallway. I think that maybe Cintia went back over to his own room, but when I look, he's still sleeping deeply in the other bed.

My door opens and in comes my father. He sees me sitting up in bed and gives me a sad smile with his head tilted to the side. "I figured you'd be awake," he says quietly as he takes a seat o the foot of my bed.

I cross my arms. "Couldn't sleep," I reply.

"I bet," he says. He stares across the room at the wall, probably thinking. He looks zoned out, but I don't say anything. We just sit there in silence. After a minute or so, he finally turns to me. "I have something for you," he says with a smile. Only when he says that do I realize his hand is clenched around something I can't see.

I lean forward curiously and put my hand out. He holds out his own and puts the object in to mine. I pull it back close to me and look at it. I recognize it instantly.

It's the golden Mockingjay pin that has become so famous in Panem, but instead of a pin exactly, it's on a leather chord. A necklace.

I finger the bird shaped metal. "The Mockingjay…" I say quietly.

My dad nods. "Mhm."

"It's not a pin?" It comes out a question more than a statement.

"It is," he says. As he says it, I flip it around only to realize that it actually is a pin. "I put it on a chain instead."

"Why?" I ask, still marveling at it.

He shrugs. "It's being given to you. It needs to suit you."

I finally look away from the pin and up at him. "But doesn't this belong to Mom?"

"Katniss would want you to have it," he says, looking far off again. Him using my mother's name doesn't phase me. He calls her by her name around me all the time. "Especially today of all days."

I realize I should, but I don't question. Instead, I put the chain over my head and let the necklace dangle around my neck. My dad smiles. "Beautiful."

I smile to. "Thank you, Dad." I climb from beneath the covers and hug him.

"You're welcome," he says as we pull apart. He smiles. I find it very hard to do so at the moment.

I glance over his shoulder at my sleeping brother across the room. "What about Cintia?" I ask in a whisper. "Does he get a Mockingjay too?"

My father shrugs. "I don't think it means as much to him as it does to you." He stands up. "I'll leave you be to get ready," he says. He heads for the door and I glance out the window. The sun is slowly beginning to peak over the horizon, letting sun in.

When my father leaves, I hear faint whispering in the hallway. After I do, my mother comes in to the room. There's a fabric garment draped over her arm. She tries to smile as she comes in. "Hi, sweetie," she says.

"Morning," is all I say. There's nothing good about it.

She walks over to the bed and lays the garment on it. "I brought you something."

I manage a slight chuckle. "That's what dad said." I take the Mockingjay between my fingers.

My mother reaches her hand out with a curious expression on her face. She fingers the shaped metal delicately. "My Mockingjay," she says quietly.

I nod. "He said you would have want me to have it. Especially today."

Her eyes don't leave the new pendant, but I slowly see her face form in to a warm smile. "He was right," she says. She sighs. "He usually is…"

Finally, she breaks her gaze from the Mockingjay and turns back to what she brought. "I… I brought you this dress to wear today."

I glance over her shoulder at the dress. It's a pale yellow that reminds me of the feathers of a baby duck. It's short sleeved and will probably fall to my knees. The sleeves, neckline, and hemline have lace on them, but not the thin, elegant kind. It's more of the free, ropey kind that you'd find on District clothes rather than the Capitol. I like it better. A ribbon seems to tie around in to the back, just below the chest. The dress is wonderful.

"It's… beautiful…" I breathe, almost speechless.

My mother smiles. "You like it?" she asks.

"It's…" I run my hand over the material. "amazing."

The smile stays on her face. "I thought you might ," she says. She sighs and gives a shrug. "It kind of reminded me of the dress I wore when… when we… won the Games." I hear her sniff. She leans over and kisses my head. She takes me in to a hug and I hug her right back, my face in her dark brown braid. She whispers to me. "You have to be strong, Colemet," she tells me. She strokes my blonde hair. "I won't let them take you too."

I know what she means. My mother lost a lot to the Capitol, almost my father amongst what was taken. There was one thing she lost that I reminded her of. Prim. Her little sister. I know she never recovered from losing her. Despite not having too much of my mother's looks, the blonde hair from my father was something Prim also possessed, something that connected me straight to her in my mother's eyes.

She didn't want them to take me too. And I wouldn't let them either. "I will," I say in a creaky voice. I make my tone serious. "The Capitol can do a lot of things. But break me isn't one of them."

She pulls back and smiles slightly. "There's my girl." She leans over and kisses my forehead again. "I love you."

"I love you too." I see her get up to leave. When she's by the door, I stop her. "Mom?"

She turns. "Yes?"

"It'll be ok," I say.

"I know," she replies evenly. "Now go get ready." She leaves without another word.

I just assured my own mother that everything would be ok. But how did I do that if I couldn't even tell myself?

…

About an hour later, the sun was risen, Cintia was up, and we were almost ready to leave for the most grim event of the year.

I put on my new pale yellow dress. I brushed through my hair a million times, letting it stay loose. I put a gold barrette on the side to keep the hair out of my face, one on either side. I slipped on a pair of faded black flats and looked on the mirror. I thought I looked very pretty in the dress, but I never considered myself a beautiful person, though Keeth told me I was even when I argued. He has a way of seeing beauty in everyone.

With one last look in the mirror, I put the finishing touch on my attire. I put the Mockingjay necklace chain around my neck and started down the stairs.

When I get down there, everyone is ready. Cintia is wearing a white dress shirt and khaki pants with his curly blonde hair brushed and tamed, something we rarely see. I can see the fear on his face; this will be his first reaping. I try to give a reassuring smile.

My parents are dressed nicely, too. My father wears a blue dress shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up and his pants are black with nice leather shoes. My mother is wearing an off white sundress that falls to her knees like mine. It has cut off sleeves and a square neckline. With his arm around her, they look truly in love, despite the grim expression on their faces.

I guess I have to be the one to take the first step. "Ready?" I ask.

Each of them nod and we head out the door. The second my feet cross the threshold, my heart begins to pound. I can even feel the grim air of the District as we all begin to head towards the Justice Building.

I can tell that everyone's on edge even more than they usually are. This year marks the 100th Annual Hunger Games, which makes it a Quarter Quell. Usually, the twist of the Quell is announced a month or so in advanced to the Reaping so everyone is prepared, but for some reason, this year, they decided not to announce it until the actual day of the Reaping. As of right now, no one knows what the twist of the Quell is, and it's making everyone more anxious than they already are.

We walk silently toward the Justice Building. Cintia is walking right next to me. I can practically feel his anxiety, how tense he is as we walk. In an act of reassurance, I take his hand and hold it in mine. He looks up at me with big, innocent gray eyes that show more worry than I've ever seen on his face.

I give him a side hug as I lean down and whisper to him, "Don't worry, Cin. It's your first year, your names only been in there once. They're not going to pick you."

When I look back at his face, I see the slightest bit of relief in his eyes that he needed to hold it together. I manage a small smile and nod my head. When I glance back at my parents, I see them smiling at me. I can see the slightest glow of tears in my mother's eyes.

Finally, we approach the Justice Building. About half the District is there already. I see some familiar faces, but in spite of that, they all have the darkest looks on them. The grimness in the air is prominent.

I see the registration station. I turn to Cintia and bend down. "Now we have to register," I explain. "They're going to prick your finger to take some blood." I see his eyes go wide. "It doesn't hurt much, only a little bit," I try to reassure him. I keep my tone gentle. "It's so they can identify you. Now go get in line with the younger kids. I'll be right there." I kiss him on the head.

Finally, he nods. "Ok," he says. "Be careful, Colemet." He walks away.

I stand back upright and turn around. Abut fifteen feet away from me stands Keeth. We just look at one another for a minute. Seeing him again makes me want to almost break down like I did yesterday, but the sight of him also floods me with relief.

I instead, at the same exact moment, Keeth and I go up to each other in an instant and hug each other tightly. He hugs me so much that my feet leave the ground.

We hold in the hug for about a minute and then we finally break apart. He looks down at me in to my eyes. "You ok?" he asks quietly as he brushes my long hair behind my shoulder.

I nod. "As ok as I can get," I reply. By the expression on his face, I know he sees it. But I won't let myself cry. I won't. That's exactly what they want; they're just waiting for me to break down. And giving them what they want is the last thing I'm prepared to do.

We need to sign in still. He takes my hand in his and we walk towards the table. His hand in mine is reassuring. When we get in line, I see Airmet ahead in the line. The sight of her reassures me as much as Keeth did. I breathe a sigh of relief.

She gets her finger pricked at the table and then turns to walk away. She turns toward us. The second she does, Keeth and I release hands. Airmet thinks we're in love or something anyway, so we don't give her even more of a reason to think so.

When she sees us she comes toward us. She smiles. "Well, look who it is," she says, trying to keep the mood light. It doesn't work very well but I try and give a small smile anyway. She looks at me seriously and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Are you ok?" she asks.

I nod, but I don't say a word. She accepts it. "Alright," she says. "I'm going to go wait. I'll see you over there."

"Ok," I respond. She starts off. I look back up at Keeth. He takes my hand again. We inch closer to the table. I sigh. "So when do you think they'll announce the Quell?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "I don't know," he responds. "Probably once we're all in order."

"Do you have any idea what you think it'll be?" I ask again. We take another step.

He shakes his head. " Not a clue," he says. "Try not to think about it."

I nod. Finally, we reach the table. I hold out the hand that Keeth isn't holding and get my finger pricked by the Capitol person. _COLEMET MELLARK, AGE 14. _I see Keeth's next to mine. _KEETH AMBERSTON, AGE 16. _

"You both can go," the Capitol person says. I walk away from the table with Keeth, keeping my expression stiff.

We stand there in between the register tables and where we need to be when they reap the tributes. I look around and see my parents behind the ropes. My father sees me and gives a reassuring nod. My mother isn't looking at me, she's staring ahead, her expression hard. Going to the Reapings has always been tough on her, but she won't ever let them see her break down. They're waiting for her to fall out. I get my strength from her. We both know too well what it could mean if we do.

Finally, Keeth and I turn to one another. He looks in to me with his green eyes. "Time to go," he tells me. He hugs me. When we break apart, my head is towards the ground and my eyes are closed. I feel his fingers on my chin and he tilts my head up. I open my eyes and look at him. "Eyes open, Colemet."

I know exactly what he means by that. "I know," I tell him. "Thanks."

Finally, we turn away from one another and part ways. I file in to the ropes and look around. I  
instantly see Airmet in the crowd and I go over to her. She gives me a reassuring smile as I approach. "Hey," she says. She takes my hand and squeezes it, just as a sister would do. I can only wonder if that's what it was like when my mother had Prim.

"They're about to announce the Quell," she says. "We'll see what happens." I give a slight nod.

Next thing you know, everyone starts getting quiet. I wasn't talking to start. I glance up and see Effie Trinket, District 12's escort taking the stage. She's older now, but you'd never be able to tell. The Capitol must be able to work magic on skin. My mother and father tell me she looks the same as she did 25 years ago.

One thing has changed, however. Her expression is tired and grim. After going through everything with the rebellion and my parents, she now hates the Games. It gets her almost as depressed when someone uses bad manners. She's not enthusiastic. And frankly, I'm ok with it. These Games should excite no one. She's proof that not everyone from the Capitol is bad.

She taps the microphone to make sure it's working. Her hair is done up in a light purple wig with lips to match. She has a lavender dress that is poofy at the bottom and at the sleeves. It has dark purple stitching. The lace on the hem and sleeves is bright yellow to match her high heels. Classic Effie. It makes me smile. "Welcome, welcome," she says in to the microphone. "Welcome to the Reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor!" She says it with as much enthusiasm as she can muster through her flat tone. She clears her throat and continues on. "First, we have a video all the way from the Captiol and then President Vanasby will be announcing the Quell. On with it!"

My heart starts beating faster, as I know that the moment the Quell is announced is approaching at rapid speed. The same video we watch every year plays on until finally, it ends.

I know what happens now. The Quell will be announced. My heart is living in my throat. I feel Airmet squeeze my hand even tighter. I'd be surprised if she couldn't feel my heart through my hand.

Finally, President Vanasby appears on the screen. The sight of his face disgusts me and I roll my eyes.

I decide to glance over at Keeth. He has the same thought as me. He gives me a nod, but I turn back to the screen.

"Greeting, citizens of Panem!" his prerecorded video booms in his scratchy voice. "And happy Hunger Games!"

I roll my eyes again, but that doesn't stop the nervousness I undoubtedly feel.

"This year marks the 100th Annual Hunger Games, also marking the fourth Quarter Quell," he continues. _Just get on with it, _I think, keeping my expression hard.

"So this year," he says. Pound, pound, pound, pound, pound. "To remind everyone about the enourmous sacrifice they have to endure for their punishment, sufferers will suffer again. The reaping will only consist of past Victors's children. Only their children will be reaped."

I knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

I knew it.

I stand there, frozen in place. I knew it. This is all the Capitol's game. And they play it well.

I look over at Airmet. She's the daughter of a Victor. She'll be in it too. I see tears welling up in her eyes and a fear stricken expression that I didn't know was capable of putting itself on her face. She squeezed my hand to the point of cutting off the circulation. Her look made my throat feel like it closed. And it got even worse as I thought of Keeth. And Cintia.

But then I realized something else. _I _would be in the reaping. Which meant Airmet would find out who I am. She would find out that I lied to her. And if I get reaped and sent to my death, I don't want her hating me in advance.

This just keeps getting worse and worse.

Everyone's voices are chattering, most from relief, others in surprise, and others who have no clue what just happened. Sadly, I'm one of the ones who are fully aware. I see Effie take the microphone again. When she taps it, the voices dim out. "Right," she says. "Due to this change, can we please have all of the eligible young men and women step forward?"

I feel Air let go of my hand with great difficulty and step forward, her walk stiff. I sigh and know I have to. I start walking to. She's ahead of me, so she doesn't notice me trailing behind her. Two other girls that I recognize from Victor's Village step out too, their faces positively white, as I'm sure mine is. I glance over and see the boys coming out too. I see Keeth, who looks like he couldn't be more infuriated, but yet, not surprised. I see Cintia who appears to be on the verge of tears and high pitched screaming. Luckily, he holds it together as he walks up. Two other Victor's children trail behind them.

As I walk up, I look around. Everyone's faces are stunned. I glance back behind me to see my parents. My father's expression is so dark, I don't think I've ever seen him so angry. My mother's face looks almost emotionless. I turn away.

We all get to the front and everyone backs up. I hear whispers on all sides. We're separated, girls on the left, boys on the right. There's a total of eight of us eligible for the Reaping.

I take my place next to Airmet. I see her turn to me out of the corner of my eye. Even without looking art her, I can tell her expression is confused. "What are you doing here?" she asks in a shaky whisper. "You're not supposed to be up here."

My stomach drops. "Yes, I am," I whisper back without looking at her. I keep my gaze at the stage.

"No, you're not," she presses. "You heard her. Only-"

"Children of the Victors?" I interrupt her still in a whisper. "I know," I say. "I'm one of them."

I see her eyes go wide from the side, but I still don't turn my head. I keep my feet planted firmly where they are. Despite the fact that it's nearly summer, I feel a cool breeze on my neck, lightly blowing my hair back. I shiver.

"What?!" Airmet asks sharply. "You're a Victor's daughter? Who is your parent?!"

"_Parents,_" I correct. I still don't look at her. "Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark." Now is just about the last time I'd ever want to tell her this.

I can tell she's shocked. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her eyes go wide and her mouth drop open. But I don't want to deal with it now. "What do you-!"

To my relief as well as well as my dismay, Effie takes the microphone again. "Alright," she says. "Now that we have our eligible young men and women in order, let us begin."

My stomach drops. "Ladies first," she says. She starts towards the reaping bowl. There are thousands of slips of paper in there, but they all have the same four names on each of them.

Suddenly, I fear for everything. Airmet, Keeth, and Cintia. I fear for what will happen in this years Games, what could be the sad fate of one of the eight of us up here. It's overwhelming.

But I don't have too much time to think. Not before my own name is called.

…

"Colemet Mellark!" Effie's voice booms.

I knew it.

I knew it again. This is what the Capitol is playing at. This is their revenge finally. They finally found their way to get me. And I can't do anything about it.

I hear whispers all around me again. I feel frozen. I can't move. I can't think. I try to make sense of it, I know I can, but I just can't.

I finally take it upon myself to move from my spot and go to the stage. As I start walking, I hear Airmet's shaky breaths as the muster up to say something. "Wait…" she says. I turn. "I volunteer… I volunteer as tribute!"

I hear gasps ring through the crowd. I stand frozen again. "It seems we have a volunteer!" yells Effie.

Airmet starts to come forward while I am still. My eyes go wide at the small sight of her going towards the stage. "Wait!" I yell, running forward. "No! NO! I won't let her!"

Even more gasps. "Well isn't this a twist!" says Effie. "The reaped tribute seems to have denied the volunteer!"

"No, Colemet!" she yells. Peacekeepers come forward and hold her back, dragging her away from the stage and me. "NO!" she keeps yelling. I turn and ignore it.

I hear my name yelled again. "Colemet!" But it's not Airmet's voice. I turn instantly. It's Keeth's. He's fighting off Peacekeepers trying to get to me. Finally, he breaks through them and runs to me. When we reaches me, he throws his arms around me and hugs me so tight that my feet leave the ground, but I hug him right back. Eventually, the Peacekeepers catch up with him and peel him off of me. They drag him back to his spot.

As I walk up to the stage now, feeling so much better, or at least as good as I could because Keeth hugged me, I can hear Airmet's yells from a distance away. I try to ignore them. When I stand up on the satge, I look out in to the crowd. A lot of people look relieved, probably because it's not them. Some show sympathy towards me. As I scan the crowd, my eyes finally fall upon my parents. My father has an even more grim expression than before and I see a lone tear stream on his cheek. I can't even see my mother's face because it's buried in my father's shoulder. I don't think IK want to see it at a time like this. My hands go up and my fingers find the Mockingjay.

"Well!" says Effie, her enthusiasm still fake. "Let's have a warm round of applause for our female tribute, Colemet Mellark!"

No one claps. Instead, everyone does exactly what I expect. Everyone puts up three fingers. It's the salute of love and goodbye. My mother told me about it, how people used it towards her when she volunteered and when she used it towards District 11 when she was in the Arena and her twelve year old ally, Rue, died.

I look around and see everyone present doing it. Everyone accept for one person.

Keeth.

I wonder why he's not, but then the look in his eyes tells me exactly why. He's telling me something.

_This is not goodbye. _

I gulp.

"Alright!" Effie says in to the microphone, interrupting my thoughts. "And now for the boys!"

My heart beat lives in my throat as she walks over in her six inch heels to the boy's reaping bowl. I fear now for Cintia more than anything. They want to break me, and they would know just how to do it. On the bright side, if we do get throw in to the Arena together, I can protect him. I could save him.

And I was right. The Capitol knows exactly how to break me. By taking away the most important thing to me.

And Cintia wasn't called.

Keeth.

…

"Keeth Amberston!"

The second I hear his name, I feel like screaming, bursting in to tears and collapsing in front of the entire District. But I know I can't do that.

I think of my mother, how strong she is, how emotionless she can be, how she wouldn't give the Capitol what they wanted. I think of the impact she made doing that. That's what keeps me together as Keeth walks towards the stage. His eyes and mine are locked, never leaving one another's.

Keeth gets up and stands a few feet away from me. He faces the crowd and keeps his face clear of emotions, just like mine. Effie plasters on a fake smile on her face and steps between us. "Well!" she says with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. It comes out croaked. "Let's hear it for this year's tributes, Colemet Mellark and Keeth Amberston!"

She claps her hands, but as before, no one else does. Instead, they once again gives us the three finger salute. Keeth and I both glance at each other as they do. We have the same thought as we turn back and face them. We salute back.

Effie turns to the two of us. "Alright you two, shake hands!"

Me and Keeth face on another. We don't even abide to her instruction. Instead, we immediately grab each other and hug. With my face in his shoulder, I blink and feel tears come. I hold him tighter. I feel his hand stroke my hair. When we finally release one another, I'm not letting myself cry anymore. I blink away the puffiness. When I do, I see a wet spot on Keeth's shoulder right where my eyes would have been.

Effie speaks again. "Happy Hunger Games!" she yells, her flat enthusiasm almost sounding real. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

…

When the dismissal is said, people start leaving immediately. I just stand there, my head basically spinning. Soon, Peacekeepers come to the stage and escort Keeth and I to the Justice Building where we'll say our goodbyes.

They lead me in to a small room and then shut the door. The walls are white and there is a lone wooden bench on one side of the room. I sit down and try to breathe. My head is still spinning, and I don't see it stopping any time soon.

I try and take it in, but it's already set in my head like I've known it all along. This was a set up beyond set ups. The Capitol made _sure _I got picked. This is their easiest and most down low way to dispose of me. Of course people don't expect anything to be wrong. I was just unlucky and got reaped, right? It would cause far less suspicion than if I seemed to be caught in a terrible accident. Just their mind set makes me sick.

And they really knew where to hit me. Not only did I get thrown in to their games, but because of me, Keeth was too. They know how to break me, take the only thing that matters most to me, the only thing I would die for. And that would be aside from Cintia. Putting him in to the Games as well as me would obviously get some attention, that's no freak accident. So they chose the next thing they could do. Keeth was in the Games and it was my fault. The Capitol's fault.

Sick.

My thoughts are interrupted by the opening of the door. Cintia comes in, his face sad and obviously showing signs of crying. A Peacekeeper shuts the door.

At the sight of me, he starts to cry again. Cintia isn't one for crying, he's usually strong like me and the rest of my family. But this just tore him up.

Before doing anything, I drop to his height and hug him. He hugs me right back. I comfortingly run my fingers through his curly blond hair. I can feel his tears making my shoulder wet, just like I did to Keeth.

I just keep hugging him. "Shh…" I try soothingly. "It's ok… Shh…"

When he somewhat calms down, I pull back and look at him. He rubs his eye. "It's ok, Cintia. Look, I'm ok," I tell him. He takes a deep breath and regains his ability to breathe.

"Y-you have to g-go to the… the g-Games…" he stutters through his choked breaths."

I hold his hands. "I know, buddy, I know. But it's ok," I tell him. "I'll be ok." I don't know why I tell him that. I can't even assure myself of that.

He looks at me with a worried expression. "B-but what if you-"

I cut him off and put my finger on his mouth to make him stop talking. "Sh. Don't talk like that. Don't think about that. I said I'd be ok. Alright?"

He nods his head. After that, we're silent for a minute. I let him calm down from sobbing and regain his ability to think, though I still haven't been able to do so yet. I try to think. One thought comes to me. Why haven't my parents come to visit me?

"Cintia…" I ask gently. "Where are mom and dad?"

"O-on the train," he stutters. "They're w-waiting for you." He sniffs.

Of course. I realize it now. They're Victors. They're mentors. They're coming to the Capitol with me. Just another part of their sick Game. I feel my knees go weak.

"Where will you be?" I ask. He can't possibly be coming to the Capitol with us, could he?

"W-with Keeth's mom," he answered, which filled me with relief knowing that he wouldn't be there to watch my probable demise. The last thing I wanted was for him to be in the Capitol, too. "She said she couldn't stand to go back there. She… she's strong, like Mom is… She's not going to let the Capitol break her by taking her back. She's smarter than that."

We're silent for a minute. I almost can't believe that came out of Cintia's mouth. He sounds so knowing, so wise sometimes that I forget he's just a kid, that he's only twelve.

Then I realize why he's so upset. He realizes just as well as I do what's really going on, what the Capitol is really playing at. I wonder how long he's known it. When I look up in to his watery eyes, I realize it's been a while.

He's only twelve.

At that moment, I just want to scream. Scream at the Capitol, the situation, everything. I want to scream at the Capitol for nearly robbing my little brother and I of our innocence, of the freedom we never got, of their shadow of revenge they've been casting over us since the day the rebellion ended and the days we were born.

But I can't. I won't give it to them. Because no doubt am I being watched. And no doubt that that's exactly what they want. I hold back my tears.

Then, the door behind Cintia opens. A Peacekeeper comes in. "Time's up," he says roughly.

I hug Cintia tightly. "It's ok, it's ok," I calm him as his sobs return. The Peacekeeper peels him off of me and begins pulling him out the door. "I'll see you soon!" I call. The door slams shut and then there's silence.

I think I just lied to my little brother.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm left alone in the room again. But the next person who comes in the room is the first and last person  
I want to see.

Airmet.

When she comes in the room, the Peacekeeper slams the door behind her. We just stare at each other for a moment. I can tell be the red puffiness in her eyes that she's been crying recently. We just stand there.

Suddenly, she lunges forward and hugs me tightly. I hug her back instantly. I can hear and feel her crying in to my shoulder again. I want to cry too, but I won't let myself.

She just keeps hugging me. I finally hear her speak in to my shoulder. It's barely audible, but I understand it. "You lied to me."

I pull back immediately. She looks at me and wipes her eyes. I'm ready to answer her. "I didn't lie to you," I say firmly.

"Yes, you did," she retorts. "You didn't tell me who you were. You _lied._" She sounds almost hurt, but angry too.

"No, I didn't!" I say. "I didn't tell you who I was, but that doesn't mean I _lied_." It's true. I never lied to her. I never told her I was someone else or denied who I really was. I just didn't tell her.

"It doesn't matter," she says. "You weren't honest with me." She walks over to the small bench and sits down. She looks up at me. "Why?"

I'm not ready to answer that question. "I wasn't dishonest with you, alright?" I go and sit down next to her. I don't look at her, I just look straight ahead. I know if I look at her, it'll make me want to cry even more. Instead, I just brush a stray blonde hair away from my face.

"It seems like Keeth knew," she interjects suddenly.

I can't believe she played that card, here and now. She never really liked Keeth; she never understood why I hung around with him. But I know she's not blind enough to oversee the fact that Keeth did know who I was while she didn't.

"That doesn't matter," I tell her. I sigh.

"You told him but not me," she says. She's still sounding hurt.

I need to change the topic away from Keeth. "You weren't any more honest with me than I was with you," I retort to her.

She looks down at the ground and her face flushes. "That's different…" she says in a small voice.

"How?" I ask. "It's no different from what I did!"

She stays quiet. I sigh. "Look, Air…" I start, trying to calm my voice a little. "I don't want to spend the last moments I see you fighting…"

She cuts me off. "This _won't _be the last time I see you," she says sharply. "You're going to win. You're going to come home. I promise." She pauses for a moment and her voice gets a little quieter. "Besides, these wouldn't be the last moments anyway. I'm coming on the train to the Capitol and then I'm coming home."

It sends relief through me knowing this won't be the last time I see her. Despite that sweet moment I get, I have to address another thing first. Bringing reality to Airmet. "Air… I can't win. I can't. Winning requires killing. Something I can't do. I could never kill a person. Especially Keeth…" I mumble the last part.

Apparently she knows me well too. "Keeth?" she asks accusingly. "This is still about Keeth?"

"That's not the point, Airmet," I say firmly. "I can't kill a person, especially not my best friend…"

"Then you should have let me volunteer for you," she says. "I could kill. I could if I needed too."

"I couldn't let you kill Keeth, I wouldn't," I say. "And even more, I'm not going to let you throw yourself in to that Arena in my place and get yourself killed. No, Airmet."

"Are you implying that I'd automatically lose?" she says. She crosses her arms.

"No!" I quickly try to mend. "No, Airmet, but it's no guarantee that you'd win, either. I'm just looking out for you."

"And I'm looking out for _you_," she replies. "I can't let you walk in that Arena and get killed if I can help it."

"You can't help it," I say quietly. Airmet doesn't know why I was chosen. She doesn't know that this wasn't an accident. But I can't tell her that, not here and not now. I don't explain my reasoning. I turn to her and look her in the eye. "I've made up my mind already. _I'm_ going in the Arena. _I'm_ competing in The Hunger Games."

She turns away from me as if holding back tears. We're silent for a minute. Finally, she breaks the silence. "What is it with you and Keeth?" she asks. "Why do you care so much about him?"

I sigh. "I don't know," I answer. "I care about him and he… he cares about me." The last part comes out shaky as I remember or time in the woods yesterday, how he cares about me and it's the reason I trust him. "We get each other."

Airmet doesn't take it like I do. "It sounds like you guys are in love," she says.

I roll my eyes. "It's not like that," I say. It's hard to think of Keeth as anything more than my best friend, though I couldn't imagine life without him. I couldn't live without him. I just couldn't do it. But for some reason, Air sees us like that and I don't know why.

"If you say so…" she says. I nudge her arm. She smiles and so do I. It might be the first time today.

Suddenly, the door opens. A Peacekeeper comes in. "Time to go," he says, his voice monotone and flat.

Airmet and I stand up and we follow him out of the room to the train.

…

When we get out of the Justice Building, I take one last good look around the District. It's probably the last time I'll ever see it. I savor it for all it's worth.

Keeth comes out of the Justice Building behind me and then walks up beside me. Airmet gets lost in the rest of the crowd as Peacekeepers begin to surround me and my fellow tribute.

Tribute. I don't think I'll ever like that label on me.

People around us are shouting and screaming as we walk towards the huge train. Our compartment's doors are open for us to go in.

We finally reach the train. As we step inside, I turn back to look. But everything seems to have gone blurry…

…

When we get in the train, Keeth and I are led to a room where we sit down. We're all alone and we sit in silence. We sit in these two comfy chairs with a crystal coffee table in front of us.

The room is beautifully decorated. There are red velvet drapes over the windows and a plush carpet over the floor to match. The crystal table in front of us matches the incredible crystal chandelier over and expensive looking mahogany table, which is teeming with lavish food on every square inch of it accompanied by drinks in crystal glasses and shiny silver flatware. The place is gorgeous.

"Wow…" Keeth breathes. He sits forward in his chair. "Nice place, huh?"

I sneer. "I'd say," I reply. Silence falls between us again. I sigh. I realize there are a lot of things that need to be said between Keeth and I but neither of us wants to say any of it out loud.

Finally, the ridgedness in the air broke when everyone came in the room. The group consisted of our mentors, Haymitch and my parents and our escort, Effie. When my mother comes in the room, she comes right over to me. I immediately stand up and hug her.

I hear her mumble as she hugs me. "Gosh, my little girl… my little girl…" she says.

I retreat back. "It's ok, Mom," I say. "I'm ok."

She shakes her head. She has a sad look on her face. "This is my fault. Gosh, this is all my fault…"

"Stop it," I say to her. "It isn't your fault. You didn't pull my name out of the reaping."

"Yes, I know, I did!" says a hysterical Effie. She dabs her damp eyes with a lacy cloth.

Haymitch turns to her. "Lighten up, Sweetheart, the kid isn't mad at anyone. Just let it go…" By the way he slurs his words and drops down in to a chair a few feet away, I can tell he's easily drunk.

My mother hugs me again. "I might as well have pulled your name out… I'm so sorry…" she whispers.

When my mother lets me go, my father comes over and puts his arm around her. "Katniss, it's not your fault…"

"Yes, it is, Peeta!" she retorts back. That's definitely what I got from her; my stubbornness.

My father rolls his eyes and gives the slightest of a smile. I can tell that no matter what my mother is doing, he delights in any and all of it, no matter the time or the circumstance. He just loves her that much. I hope I can find someone who loves me like that one day too.

My father walks over to Keeth. Keeth stands up and they shake hands. "I'm so sorry about this, Keeth," my father tells him.

Keeth shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively. "Don't be, sir. Nothing you guys could control."

My father gives a stiff nod of his head. "Right," he says. "Well, shall we eat?" he asks the group collectively.

Everyone murmurs some form of 'yes'. Haymitch grunts as he gets up. "Good," he says. "I'm s-starving." He chokes on his words as he stumbles to the table.

As we sit down, Airmet joins us and comes over to the table. She looks at her father. She then looks to me but points at him. "Drunk?" she asks. I nod. "Figures," she says. I laugh a little.

When we all sit down, Keeth and I sit on one side of the long part of the table. On the other side sits my mother and father as well as Airmet across from me. One of the ends of the table is Effie and Haymitch on the other, closer to me.

We sit in silence at first, just eating the delicious food. I'm not sure the silence is because of the tension in the air or the fact that we're all stuffing our faces with the food. It's probably a little of both.

Finally, when I start to not feel as hungry anymore, a little from fullness and just the fact of not being hungry, I turn to Haymitch. "So where do we begin?" I ask him. I specifically speak to him because I know it's something I don't want to hear from my parents. I don't want them to tell me how to kill, how to win the Games. I can't kill anyway.

"We'll get there… at some point…" he says. He goes on eating like the drunk he is.

"We should probably start soon," I press. "There's a lot to know."

"Colemet…" Keeth warns quietly. I ignore him.

"So?" I ask impatiently.

Haymitch groans. "Geez, Sweetheart, just give me a minute…" he says warily. He starts to reach across the table. "Will someone please pass the liquor…?" he says.

"I think you've had enough to drink for now," I tell him with attitude.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on, just one more drink…" When he keeps reaching for the alcohol, I take my butter knife and stab it in to the table right in front of his hand.

Everyone's faces are shocked with my hand still on the handle. Effie gasps. "That is MAHOGANY!"

A smile crosses my face as I remove my hand from the handle of the knife. Haymitch reaches out and dislodges it from the table. "Well," he says. "Chip off the old block to say the least. How 'bout it, Katniss?"

I look to my mother, whose face is red. Soon, the look of embarrassment fades and turns in to a mischievous smile. She takes her own butter knife and stabs the table right next to where mine was. Everyone seems to laugh, even me. All except Effie, who now seems to be hyperventilating at the fact that we've now put two holes in the overly expensive table. Her look of shock and disgust amuses me even more.

"Manners!" she says. We keep laughing. She stands up and takes the napkin that was on her lap and throws it on to the table in disgust. "That's quite enough," she says. "I think we've all had enough. We should go to our other activities, shall we?" She sounds past aggravated with our behavior. She walks over to a door leading to another compartment.

We all finish up the last of our food and one by one follow Effie in to the other compartment. This one is full of comfy chairs, elegant pillows, and a huge couch all atop a plush carpet. In front of the couch is a wide screen TV.

I know what this is. We're going to watch the Reapings from the other districts.

I sink down on to the huge plush couch and brace myself. Keeth comes and sits next to me. When he sits, he puts his arm around me and reassurance. I see Airmet shoot us a look out of the corner of my eye, but I specifically don't make eye contact with her. I keep my eyes glued to the screen even though nothing is on it yet.

My parents sit in a love seat on one side of the room. My father has my arm around my mother. Haymitch, Effie, and Airmet all sit in other chairs that are piled high with pillows. Realizing it now, I'm starting to really miss Cintia. I try to keep him out of my head as Effie turns on the tape.

We watch the Reapings in ascending order, starting from District 1. In each of the Reapings, we see the usually small number of eligible tributes, all the sons and daughters of Victors.

From District 1, there are quite a few teenagers who are eligible. Since District 1 has Career tributes, more of their tributes have won in the past years. When their escort, a Capitol woman with tanned skin, long blue hair and wild green eye shadow reads off the two names, the two selected tributes come up.

It works that way with every selected pair. Only a few truly stick out to me.

The boy from 2 is the first to really stand out. He's has a huge build. He has short blonde hair and a face that is beyond recognizable in my mind, but I know I can't place him. When he gets called, he walks stiffly up to the stage with a grim expression on his face.

The two tributes from 3 stand out as well. The girl is called first. When she's called, she goes up to the stage looking beyond sullen. She has long blonde hair like me, but hers is a lot paler. Her face is narrow but also beautiful. She looks a little older than me. Probably 16 or something.

The boy from 3 stands out. When he gets called and moves from the crowd, I see him. He stands out among the others, his dark brown hair in almost the same style as Keeth's; he's tall, too. He looks probably around 15 or 16 in age. He has a face and demeanor that just pull you in as he walks closer to the stage. I glance around at the others to see if I'm the only one who thinks this, and it seems I am. I try to ignore it.

The male tribute from 4 also has a recognizable face, but I can't place him either. He has soft brown hair with natural bronze highlights and sea foam green eyes. When I look around at everyone else, I see my mother tearing up and my father with a look that shows something beyond recognition. I still can't place him.

The girl from 5 seems super shy as she walks up. She looks really sad, but I don't blame her. She's short, probably only 12 years old. She has red hair and a freckle covered face. She basically sulks to the stage.

The two tributes from eight are obviously siblings. They both have the same jet black hair and pale faces. Their thin mouths both form straight lines. When they get up on the stage, they hug each other.

The two tributes from 11 stick out to me, too. They're both obviously siblings, too, maybe even twins. They both have the same dark brown hair, their skin tan from working in the agricultural fields of District 11.

The girl really sticks out. The tribute that will be competing actually wasn't even reaped. A little girl, probably around the age of 12 for obvious reasons is. The little girl has dark brown hair and a slight face like the actual female tribute, but hers is shorter. It's obvious that they're siblings too. When the girl is reaped, It takes her sister less than a minute to volunteer for her. She's bold. The girl seems nearly emotionless when she walks to the stage, but I've seen that act before. Her brother does the same. They both look around my age, probably 14. With how the girl volunteered for her sister and now her brother alongside her, it seems the odds aren't in her family's favor at all.

Then we begin to watch our Reaping. It's hard for me to see, the set up of me getting reaped, Airmet being dragged away after trying to volunteer, and the Keeth being reaped, an indirect symbol of me dragging down the ones I love with me. Only do I realize I'm crying when Keeth's hand comes up to my face and his thumb lightly brushes the tears off my skin.

All of the reaped tributes have fear on their face alike.

I can't watch this. I don't want to watch it. I can't bear it all.

I shoot up from my chair. I look around and see the faces of these people who care about me, who love me, who want to help me. But then I say something defying it all.

"I want to be alone."

…

I get up and leave the room hastily. I go to another compartment of the train, the one that includes out bedrooms. I walk until I find the one with my name labeled on it.

I open the door and go in. In the center of the room is a huge bed with a fluffy white comforter, overflowing with pillows of almost every single color blue and green you can imagine. The walls are painted like the color of the sky lined with beautiful paintings of flowers, trees, and swirling colors. There's also a nice wooden dresser, an end table with a small lamp, and a small crystal chandelier above it all casting a beautiful light over the room. There's a window above the head board of the bed that has a soft green curtain that can close on it.

My eyes keep tearing up. I go over and sit among the never ending pillows on my bed. I grab one and shove my face in to it tightly and just scream. I know no one can hear it through the insane plush pillow, so I scream louder.

When I lift my face from the pillow, I see tear stains on it. I take a deep breath. Instead of staying calm, I take the pillow with my tears and hurl it at the wall across the room.

It feels good to release the anger. I look around me. There are probably thirty more pillows around me. I pick up another one and throw it. And another. And another.

I've thrown about ten more when I hear a light knock on my door. I stop throwing the pillows but I don't answer the person who knocked.

They don't wait for the answer anyway. The door inches open a little and Keeth slips in the room. He doesn't come all the way in; he just stands in the doorway. We stare at each other for a minute. Finally, he raises his eyebrows at me in question. "Do you really want to be alone?" he asks.

That's when I realize it; I don't. I need someone, but when I was out there, I didn't really want any of them there with me. I thought I wanted to be alone, but maybe I don't. Instead of saying anything, I just shake my head.

Keeth opens the door more and comes all the way in. He shuts it behind him. He walks over and sits on the foot of my bed. For a while he doesn't say anything. He doesn't even face me; he just stares at one spot on the floor. I pick up another pillow and hug it tight to me. I rest my chin on top of it. Now that I got over throwing the pillows, I feel a little better.

Finally, Keeth turns to me and speaks. "You ok?"

I nod. And as I do, I realize it's the truth. I am ok. Whatever was pent up inside me was released from something as silly as throwing pillows. I feel a lot better. I can focus. I'm aware. I'm alert. "Yeah," I say. "Are you?"

He shrugs. "As good as I can get," he tells me. He sighs.

I slightly move over and push some pillows aside from the spot next to me. I pat it, motioning for him to sit next to me like he does to me. When he sees this, he smiles and crawls over to sit next to me.

When he's settled, I feel good doing the familiar. I curl up beside him and lean over to put my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. We both lean back together against the endless sea of pillows behind us.

We stay silent for a little while, but it's Keeth who breaks the silence again. "How long are we going to spend avoiding the inevitable, Colemet?"

I sigh and shake my head against his shoulder. "I don't know," I say gently. "It can't be long."

"I know," he replies. There's a pause. "We're allies in the Arena, right?" he asks.

"Of course," I say immediately. We're silent again. The silence is a constant and repetitive it seems. I break it this time. "Keeth, we have to face it," I tell him. "One of us isn't making it back alive."

She nods solemnly. "I know," he says. "But I don't want to think about that."

"We have to eventually," I say. "We can't get around it."Silence. He breaks it again. "…what if we both win?" he proposes.

"Won't happen," I answer. "It can't."

"Why not? That's what happened with your parents. Why not again?" he presses on.

"Because that's not the Capitol's game," I answer. "They're never going to let both of us win. There's one victor. Only one. They put me here to be killed and they put you here to break me." I pause. "And I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," he says. He closes that matter but keeps the other going. "What if it comes down to me and you and we won't kill each other? What if we pull out nightlock like your parents did? What then?"

"They'd let us both die," I answer. "Besides, they'll probably kill me before they let that happen."

He's silent. He's thinking.

He comes back with one sentence that gives me hope.

"We'll figure it out."


	7. Chapter 7

When we pull in to the Capitol, the sight is magnificent. The Capitol is beyond amazing, it stands so tall and beautiful unlike anything I've ever seen before. Keeth and I nearly press our faces up against the glass to get a proper look. It's so fantastic. And yet, it makes me sick.

We start to pass the crowds of people as we pull in to the station. These people are who we're entertaining as we fight and massacre one another to the death. They find our death amusing. I feel more sick.

In addition to that, they're also our sponsors. Despite finding my imminent death to their entertainment, they also can save my life. I'm supposed to get them to like me. But passing them right now, seeing their zany clothing, insane make up, and seeing them cheer for me makes me resent them more. And right now, my resentment towards them overcomes my will to get them to like me. I give them the best stare down, the darkest glare I can muster at them all.

Keeth sees this . When we finally pass the crowds and go in to a tunnel towards the station, he turns to me and looks at me with a peculiar expression. "What was that?" he asks, his voice sounding disbelieving at what I just did.

My stiff gaze at him doesn't falter. I give him a one word answer. "Defiance," I say. I turn away and sit back down.

Keeth and I are silent for the remaining few minutes of the ride. I take the time to go say good-bye for what will probably be the last time to Airmet.

I find her sitting in another compartment on a huge, plush chair with her arms tightly around a pillow. I enter the room silently, and I as close the doors behind me, I mockingly knock on it. "Hey," I say. "Can I come in?"

She nods, her face is a bit sullen, her mouth in a stiff line as her eyes follow me where I got to sit. I sigh. "I came to say good-bye," I tell her.

"Don't say that," Airmet snaps. Her voice is shaky like she's holding back tears. "This isn't good-bye, this is see you later." _Yeah, _I think. _See you in Heaven._

I sigh. "I know you don't want to think about it, Air, but just in case…" I go over and hug her tightly around her neck. "I love you. You're my sister and you always will be, no matter what happens. I couldn't have asked for a better friend than you. No matter what happens in that Arena, I'll never forget you."

She hugs back. "I love you too, Colemet. I'll be cheering my sister on the entire time, I will."

As I pull away from her, I smile. "I know I can count on it."

For a second, she glances down and then looks back up at me. "Colemet?" she says my name quietly.

"Yeah?"

"…you'll try to win, right?" Her eyes are glassy with tears.

I gulp. "I'll try. I'll really try."

She sighs shakily. "I know you can win. I do."

I pause but then give a half hearted nod. "Ok…" I try and give the slightest of smiles. "Send me sponsorship stuff, alright?"

She smiles at this. "Ok," she says. "I promise."

After sitting in silence for a moment, we feel the train lurch to a stop. We look at each other. Not soon after do we hear Haymitch's voice yell, "Everybody off!"

I stand up. "That's my cue…" I tell her. She nods. Without saying anything else, she stands up and gives me a hug. It's hard to turn away, but once I do, I start for the door.

When I almost reach the door, I hear Airmet's quiet voice behind me. "…Colemet?"

I turn around with my hand on the door knob. "Yeah?" It almost comes out croaked.

"…See you soon." I barely can see a smile.

All I can do is nod my head and try to smile before I turn to the door because I don't have the heart to say good-bye.

…

When we finally pull in to the station, we're taken off the train, Keeth and I together, surrounded by Peacekeepers. Instantly I know why. When we get off the train, we're greeted by more screaming Capitol citizens, all pushing and shoving to get a look at this year's tributes. As we're led through the crowd, it takes all of the self restraint I have not to scream at them to shut up. I feel Keeth grab my arm. When I turn to face him, he's giving me a warning look. He knows I want to do it but is telling me not to.

As soon as we're out of the station, we're taken to the remake center, something I've heard all about. We're taken there and get completely made over so we all can look stunning for the Capitol and their stupid Games. We get a prep team and stylists. As we go there, I'm not thrilled to meet any of them.

When we finally get there, I'm taken in to a room where I'm told to change in to a thin robe that they make us wear while the prep team works on us.

After I change, I survey the room. In the middle of the room is a large padded table that I'll probably be laying on. There's a large tub too, where I'll be bathed and washed. There are tons of shelves containing tools and an innumerable number of products in bottle, cans, and other containers. I shudder knowing that they're all going to be used on me just to get prettied up for the Capitol.

After a long wait, my prep team finally comes. I'm very relieved to see that it's three girls, knowing that I'll be bathed and undressed in front of them. I'd be mortified if it were guys.

My prep team is the obvious stereotype of a Capitol person. The first one, Claudia, has blue tinted skin and an eye color that looks so purple that it can't be natural. Her hair is bleached so blonde that it looks almost white. Her voice is high pitched as she comes in and greets me, shaking my hand then kissing me once on each cheek like they do in the Capitol. She introduces me to the other two, Diala and Frinshea.

Diala looks almost normal except for her clothes. She's wearing a prep team outfit, but her boots go up to her thighs and they're not made of any material I've ever seen before. She has chunky jewelry one her wrists, neck, and ears. Her ears are pierced all the way around. Other than that, she looks pretty normal, except her skin. It's so ghostly pale that it looks like she's never seen the sun.

Frinshea isn't as normal looking. She's actually stripped of any jewelry except for one ring. Her hair is hot pink and is layered in weird ways. Her eyeliner is bold and think and her eye lashes look braided. Her eye shadow is a wild shade of aqua that matches the color on her overly long nails.

As soon as they get in, they get to work. Claudia tells me to take off my robe and get in the tub that she's now filled with steamy water. I abide to her. Even the water smells nice. I wash myself well so that they don't have to, but something in the water seems to be cleansing me additionally. I've never seen anything like it.

While I soak in the tub, the prep team goes to work on mangling my hair. They brush it thrugh what seems like a million times and rub an endless amount of product in it. They chop off the split ends and give me a small amount of layers in addition to it. By the time I get out out of the tub and my hair is dry, it feels so unreally smooth and soft that I don't even think it's my hair any longer.

I get out of the tub. Diala tells me that I can put the robe back on, which relieves me. She then tells me to lay down on the table. I abide again.

Before I know it, they've mangled me completely. They've waxed my leg hair, given me a small amount of self tanner, cut and cleaned my fingernails and toenails, plucked my eyebrows in to neat arches, and rubbed down my entire body with some special cream that's supposed to make my skin look healthier.

Finally, after all that, I'm led to another room. This one is completely empty except for a table on the far side of the room under one light. When I'm led there, I'm told to lay on it until my stylist comes in. _Great, _I think as the door slams. _Just great._

I lie in wait on the table for my stylist. After minutes that seem like hours, I hear the door open. I see a figure enter the room but I can't tell anything about it. The only light in the room is the hanging one above me, making the rest of the room dark around it.

I see the figure coming towards me. I start to sit up to introduce myself, but then a voice stops me. "Stay down," it says. The voice is male. I groan in my head. I did _not _want a male stylist.

I lay back down against the table. Finally, my stylist comes in to the light. I confirm that it is a guy. He's pretty tall, probably almost a foot taller than me. He has short, dark hair. He has blue eyes that stand out against the lack of color in his appearance from his black pants and black leather jacket. One thing stands out to me; he's very surprisingly young. He can't be any older than his early twenties, if even that.

He starts to walk around the table I'm laying on, studying me as his subject, looking me over as he walks.

It's just silence at first. Finally, he breaks the silence. "What's your name, sweetheart?" he asks me.

I cringe slightly. His endearment reminds me of drunken Haymitch. I answer him anyway. "Colemet," I say.

He cocks his head to the side. "I like that name," he says. He pauses, still looking me over. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

I lift my eyebrows. "Yeah, me too," I reply. I turn the subject a bit. I'd rather not talk about it, since I know a lot is coming in the very near future. "So what's your name?"

"Jake," he replies simply. My stylist is Jake. He reaches out and touches my arm. My first instinct is to pull away, but I don't. I'm not used to being touched, only really by Keeth, and sometimes I'm not even ok with that. He runs his hand down my forearm until he reaches my hand, which he takes in to his hand and studies closer, looking at my fingernails and the palms of my hands. My muscles tense.

Jake feels it easily. He lifts an eyebrow and looks at me. "Is everything ok?" he asks suspiciously.

I try to shake it off. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looks at me skeptically but just nods it off and continues. My heart picks up from being uncomfortable.

He goes on with what seems like poking and prodding me as if to see how I work as a subject being styled. He checks the prep team's work, feels my hairless legs, checks my fingernails. He sees what can work to his advantage. He can wrap his entire hand around my wrist; he realizes I'm pretty skinny. He runs his hand along my side to feel for the curves I don't really have but that he can't see under my loose robe. Finally, he gets up to my face.

He looks down at me. He tilts my head from side to side. He smiles. "You're very beautiful," he says with sincerity. "The prep team did a great job." He brings up his hand and pushes a stray blonde hair away from my face. When he does, his fingertips linger on my neck a second longer than necessary. When he pulls them away, he looks at me suspiciously again.

"Why are you so nervous?" he asks me.

I try and bluff out of it. "I'm not nervous," I reply with as much coolness as I can muster.

He smirks at me. "Then how come your heart is going a mile a minute?"

I wonder how he could possibly know this. His hand wasn't anywhere close to my chest to be able to know, but then I realize. His hand lingering on my neck. He could feel my pulse through my neck.

When I don't respond, he just goes on. "You can sit up now," he tells me. I do so. I turn and then let my legs hang off of the side of the table. Jake leans against the table beside me and crosses his arms. He turns his head towards me. "So what's wrong?" he asks again.

I shrug. "Don't take it personally, but I just kind of hate this…" At least I'm honest.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "Hate what?" he asks.

I shrug again. "All of it."

"I see," is all he says.

There's a silence. I break it. "So aren't you a little young to be a stylist for the tributes?"

"Is that your business?" he almost snaps back, but not really with anger.

"I'm making it now," I reply smartly. He'll realize pretty fast that if he gives me attitude, I'll just give it back. "So how old are you, anyway?" I ask him.

Jake sighs. I guess he contemplates whether to answer, but eventually he decides for it. "Nineteen," he tells me.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Why did you decide to be a stylist so young?" I ask.

He shrugs. He thinks about his reasoning behind it for a minute, I can see it in his face. "All my life…" he starts. "I've always hated the Games."

I look at him in disbelief. "Uh… if you hate the Games, you're in the wrong place," I tell him.

He smirks at me. "Not exactly," he says through a chuckle. He sighs and looks ahead again, like he's picturing it all in his head. I can't help but wonder what he sees. "I always thought these Games were terrible; cruel… I couldn't even imagine what kind of fear the tributes went through in preparation for the Games; being reaped and everything. I just couldn't bear to think about it. I never had to worry about it for myself growing up in the Capitol but I always worried for other people…"

I don't understand. The Capitol finds _enjoyment _out of watching us fight and die. So why didn't Jake? "Why didn't you just go along with it like everyone else? Why did you feel so bad if you were raised to like it?"

He sighs again. He turns back to me. "I didn't let them brainwash me like they did everybody else. I tried hard to stay a free thinker."

I smile at him. "It worked."

He smiles and looks down. He doesn't say anything so I ask again, "But why did you feel so bad for us all?"

He pauses and keeps looking at the ground. Finally, he looks me in the eye when he looks back up to answer. "Compassion," he says. "Unlike the rest of the people in the Capitol, I had compassion for the Districts. Even though they tried, I wouldn't let them get to me; I wouldn't let them pull me in to liking murder."

When he says that, I instantly realize how similar Jake and I are. We both won't let the Capitol get to us, even if it is for different reasons. "You're proof that not everyone from the Capitol is bad," I say quietly.

"I hope so," he says. "I just wish that could be said for more people." I nod in agreement.

It still doesn't make sense to me. "So… if you dislike the Games so much, why are you working with them?"

"Like I said, compassion," he answers me. He must see my confusion and goes on to explain. "I want to help you. That's what the stylist is there for, not just to pretty you guys up for slaughter. They help the tributes in any way that they can. So as long as you're possibly facing death…" I gulp at his words. "I want to be there to help. It's the least any of us can do for what the Capitol has done to you guys."

Jake is a lot deeper than I would have ever imagined. It's amazing. What I said to him before is the truth. He _is _proof that not everyone from the Capitol is bad.

I try and think about Jake's past. Growing up in a place where kids killing kids brought enjoyment to everyone except him. He was an outcast. An outsider. The only one. To have to bear through that for years and years. And now, coming here is part of his revenge that he only needs to prove to himself. It's amazing. I respect him a lot more than I did when he walked in the room, when I assumed he was just one of them. He's taught me never to make assumptions again.

When I don't say anything, he clears his throat. "Well, enough about me," he says a little shakily. "On to you."

I'd really rather not talk about myself; it's something I've never really been good at. But I have to.

"So, Colemet," he starts. "All of the tributes this year are children of the Victor's. Who's your parent?"

"_Parents_," I correct him like I corrected Airmet at the reaping. It seems like forever ago, but it was only a few hours. "My parents are Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark."

His eyes widen a little bit. "Wow," he breathes. "You have an extremely known name even before you got here."

"Yeah. Sadly…" I mumble.

"What was that?" he asks, referring to my muttered reply.

I'd rather not tell him anything now, or maybe even at all. Besides, I guarantee I'm being watched. "Nothing."

He shrugs it off. "Alright." He continues on. "So tonight is the tribute parade. We're going to take you out and show you off to the world, show them who Colemet is." He takes a pause and thinks. "So you have to choose what you want to be seen _as_," he tells me. "You have a lot of options to choose from. Who do you want to be?"

I think back to the past. I've seen it all. Vicious. Shy. Smart. Funny. Sly. Nice. Sexy. Helpless. They've all been tried. Some have failed, some have succeeded. But I know mine before I even have time to think about its consequences, let alone care.

"That's easy," I say. "Defiant."

He looks at me with raised eyebrows, but I stand my ground. He nods.

"Alright," Jake says. "Defiant it is."


	8. Chapter 8

We spend the rest of the day getting ready for the tribute parade. Jake asks me all sorts of questions so he can figure out exactly what to dress me in for the tribute parade, keeping Keeth in mind as well and working with his stylist since we would be wearing the same thing.

I'm in a small room by myself in the remake center. It's almost like a sitting room, it has a couch and a table; it's kind of cozy although I don't sit, just pace around impatiently. I wait for Jake to come back after conversing with Keeth's stylists. He's been going back and forth to see Keeth's stylist for over two hours. It's starting to get on my nerves. Why can't me and Keeth just sit in the same room and do this? I try not to ask questions; I hate this enough already.

Jake finally comes back in the room. I sigh out of the relief from my impatience and roll my eyes. He shoots me a look. "Watch it," he tells me.

"Shut up," I say. He just smirks and shakes his head. He's catching on quickly. He sits down on the couch and motions for me to sit beside him. I cross my arms, roll my eyes, and go sit next to him.

When I sit, I notice for the first time that he's hold a sketchpad, but I can't see what's on the page since he's holding it to his chest. I motion with my head to the pad. "What's on the page?"

"A design we came up with for you two," he tells me. I reach out to take the sketch pad, but he shakes my hand and pushes my hand away.

I look at him with a questioning look. "What?" I ask. "Can't I see it?"

He shakes his head again. "Not yet," he replies. "I just have one more question for you."

"Alright," I say. "What is it?"

He pauses before answering. "You're the daughter of the famous Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire." I nod my head.

He smiles. "You're not afraid of fire, are you, Colemet?"

...

Good thing I'm not.

The next three hours are spent making, fitting, and working our outfits. I finally get to see Keeth again since the train. When I see him, I hug him.

When we finish our hug, he pulls back and puts his hands on my arms. "Are you ok?" he asks seriously.

I nod my head assuredly. "Yep," I tell him. "I'm ok now." He smiles at me.

We turn our heads to glance at our stylists. Keeth looks back at me. "Any idea what they're doing?" he asks.

I guess his stylist didn't tell him either. I shake my head. "Not a clue," I tell him. "My stylist _did _ask me if I'm afraid of fire. That scared me a little bit..."

"Mine asked me that too," he replies. "Maybe we'll be on fire like your parents."

"Gosh, I hope not," I say. Despite the fact that I'm not too crazy about being on fire in the first place, I don't want to follow in my parents' footsteps. I want to make a name for myself. I want be remembered as my own, as Colemet Mellark, not Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark's daughter. Family can only go so far. I know that too well.

I try to change the subject. I finally have an opportunity to actually talk to Keeth. It may be one of the last ones I have, I'm not going to waste any shot I get. "So what approach are you taking to the Capitol?"

He pauses for a moment. He just shrugs. "I'm not sure yet. I didn't really choose one."

I look at him skeptically. "Didn't your stylist ask what approach you wanted to take?"

He shrugs again. "She did. But I didn't really give an answer."

"Why not?" I ask. It didn't make sense. Keeth's always been so sure of himself. I thought for sure he'd know exactly what he wanted to be.

"Because I don't want to be defined by the Capitol; I just want it to work as I go, just see what happens." He pauses. "And I honestly couldn't care less what they think about me anyway."

That makes me smile. It sounds like Keeth. I thionk his approach at not taking an approach is one of the best I've ever heard.

He interrupts my thoughts. "So what did you choose for _your _approach?"

I smirk at him the way he always does to me. "You'll see," I say.

He raises his eye brows at me. "You're not going to tell me?"

I smirk broader. "Maybe," I say. He just smiles at me and shakes his head.

Finally, our stylists come over to us. I'm definitely losing patience with them, especially Jake. He says he's here to help. I feel it'd be helpful if he could tell me what's going on. I cross my arms as they approach.

"Did you figure it all out yet?" I ask him impatiently.

"Yup," he answers me.

My next question comes as an instinct given the situation. "Are you setting us on fire?"

Jake gives me wry smile. "Yup."

I turn to Keeth. We're both thinking the same thing.

_Oh no…_

…

Before Keeth and I even have time to think, or protest at that, our outfits are ready. Our stylists bring them to us. We both study them curiously.

They're all black, symbolizing coal and coal mining from District 12. All of the tribute parade outfits need to resemble our home district. There's a jacket for each of us. Keeth's goes only to his waist while the hem of mine falls to my mid thighs and flares out a little starting at the waist. There are strange collars on the jacket too. The pants are loose on Keeth but tight fitting on me so that the material hugs my legs while still looking classy and not suffocating me. On the back of each of the jackets, there's a huge _12 _that takes up the entire area of it. We both have a pair of black combat boots to go with it.

The outfits look somewhat similar to the pictures I've seen depicting what my parents wore, but there's definitely a distinction to a point where it won't be looked upon as the same thing. I feel relief about that. Maybe I will be remembered as something of my own.

We're each handed the outfits. "So… um… we're going to be… on fire?" I ask Jake uncertainly.

He chuckles a little bit. "No, not exactly." I'm a little revealed to hear that but the relief doesn't last for long. "Right before your chariot is released, we'll be lighting the bottom of your outfits on fire with a synthetic stunt fire. It doesn't burn and you won't feel a thing."

"What's the fire for exactly?" Keeth asks suspiciously.

His stylist answers him with a smile. "You'll see." She winks at us.

I don't like that answer. I look over at Keeth. Judging by the expression on his face and way his jaw is set, he didn't like it either. When he turns to me, I shoot him a look that he understands. He just shrugs.

After we're given our outfits, our stylists start to push us in opposite directions. "Come on," Jake says as he leads me down yet another hallway in what seems like the endless remake center. "Time for you guys to get changed."

He brings me to a small room to change. I go inside, shut the door, and put on my costume. It fits me perfectly. After all, it was made for me. After I tie the laces to the combat boots, I look in the full length mirror. I like the outfit on me. It suits me. It looks like what I am to the Capitol. Defiant.

I hear Jake knock on the door. "Come in!" I call to him. He opens the door and comes in. When he sees me in my costume, he smiles widely at me. "You look great," he says with sincerity.

"Thanks to you," I say. He blushes.

"Alright," he starts. "Now we do your hair and makeup." He motions to a chair on the far side of the room. It's sitting in front of a mirror and a counter that holds brushes, clips, make up supplies, and a ton of other things. I go and sit down. He turns me away from the mirror and begins to work with my hair.

Now thinking about it, Jake doesn't really seem like the stylist type. He seems like just a normal teenager who's becoming an adult. I question this. "So how much do you really know about style?"

He chuckles at this. It relieves me a little, I was hoping I wouldn't offend him. "Not much," he replies. Figures. "But enough to pass you guys off for the Capitol's approval."

That makes me laugh a little. I wonder what he actually did to get the job since he was only in it for the compassion he felt in his heart. I try not to think much of it and just be grateful.

Eventually, he decides just to leave my hair down but to make it wavy. He does that and pins the frontmost strands of hair back on my head.

For my makeup, I have some slight blush on just to give my face color. He puts clear gloss over my lips. For my eye makeup, he uses black mascara and eyeliner and touches it off with some shimmery white eye shadow.

When I see he's using that, I question like I do everything it seems. "Why the white?" I ask. "It seems like such a contrast."

I see him smirk out of one eye as he lightly puts it on my eyelid of the other eye. "You'll see," he tells me mysteriously. I guess it makes sense in his own mind.

Finally, he turns me around to see myself. When I see myself in the mirror, it seems strange at first. This is the first time I've ever worn makeup. It's definitely a new change. I'm not sure if I like it or not.

"So what do you think?" Jake asks me hopefully.

I take a second before answering. "…Different," I finally say. "Definitely different."

"Well, different can be a good thing," he replies. "You look gorgeous."

I blush. "Thanks…"

I get up out of the chair and follow Jake out of the room. We go back through the hallway that we came to meet Keeth and his stylist, whose name I now know is Cynthia. When we get to the end of the hallway, I see Keeth decked out in the same gear I am.

I walk up to him. He looks me over and smiles. "Nice," he says.

"Nice yourself," I return the compliment. I glance over and see the stylists whispering to each other. I turn back to Keeth. "Any more ideas on what the fire could mean?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not really. Whatever it is, it can't hurt us. That's all the assurance we probably need."

"I hope you're right…." I reply uneasily.

Our stylists turn back to us. "Ok. Time to go," Cynthia tells us in a high pitched voice. As we turn to leave, she gives a squeal of excitement. I roll my eyes.

We start down a different hallway towards what I know as where the door is. We trail behind the stylists who are smartly leading the way. As we walk, Keeth reaches down and takes my hand in his. Despite the fact that I'm doing pretty well, he always makes me feel better in just the way I need.

When we finally exit the remake center to my relief, there's a fancy Capitol car waiting for us to take ys to the parade. We all get in together. We're all silent for the whole fifteen minutes of the ride. I guess we're all just thinking everything over. As each minute passes, I get more nervous about the parade. What are we supposed to do on the chariot? Just stand there? I feel like I'd look like a fool. I certainly don't want to wave to the people, I don't even want to smile. I guess I'll just play it out when I'm on there. That is if I don't fall off of it.

We finally get to the parade and go back to where our chariot is. Haymitch, my mother, and my father are all waiting for us. When we see them, their faces all light up.

"Nice look for you, Sweetheart," Haymitch comments. He seems sober. I smile in thanks.

My mom comes over to me and hugs me. "You look great, Colemet," she tells me.

"Thanks, Mom," I reply.

She turns to my father and smiles softly. "She looks just like you, Peeta." He smiles at her then comes and gives me a hug too.

Keeth comes over to us. My father shakes his hand and my mother gives him a hug. They seem happy to see him, which is something nice to see. I feel bad for Keeth, that his mother didn't come to the Capitol with us. I can only assume he misses her. But he understands why she didn't want to come, and he's ok with it, which only makes me respect him more.

My mom comes back over to me. I look at her hopefully. "Any last minute advice?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not going to tell you how to do this because I know you can do it on your own."

That makes me smile, knowing she has the faith and confidence in me to do this right. I hope her confidence is right.

Haymitch comes over to us. His walk is a little shaky, so I was wrong about him being sober. Even so, he's not exactly drunk. "Alright, you two," he says, putting a hand on my back and Keeth's back and guides us over to the chariot. "Almost time."

Our stylists are waiting by the chariot. When we get over there, Jake says, "Time to get on."

Our chariot is charcoal black drawn by two horses of the same color. There are two small steps to get in to the chariot. Keeth and I step up on them. I hear a loud intercom-like voice warn us that we only have one minute. When I look back down, Jake is holding a huge match.

"Ok, we're going to light the synthetic fire. Remember, it won't hurt, won't burn. It's completely safe. Are you guys ready?" he asks us.

"No," I say. "What will the fire do?"

He smirks again. "You'll see in a minute," he says. The voice warns us for thirty seconds. Before I can even protest or say otherwise, Jake reaches over and lights the flame right by my feet. I look at him in exasperation. "Have fun," he teases.

Before I know it, I see the other tribute chariots start going in front of us, and in less than a minute, our horses lurch forward after them. When they do, I almost lose my balance, but Keeth catches me. We smile at each other and then he takes my hand as we go out and flood in to the light.

Screaming. That's the first thing I hear. Screams from the fans around us. When the light quits blinding me, I can take in my surroundings with my eyes.

I was right. Odd looking Capitol people are screaming from all angles around us as our chariot moves. I try to think fast as to what to do. Keeth solves it for me at first. He takes out interlocking hands and raises them up in the air. The people cheer louder.

Then I remember something. The fire. I don't feel it. What's it doing? I look down at where it burns.

Only it's not where it was before. It's moved up my legs. It still seems to be moving, and as it does it looks as if it's… burning away the costume.

My costume is burning away.

I feel slightly alarmed at first, but that's before I realize something else. Even though it's burning away the black, it's leaving something in its place. Something… silver.

My outfit is burning to silver.

When I look over, Keeth's is too. He looks at me with the same confusion that I feel. It's burned up to our waists now. Most people can see it at this point. Because of that, the crowd shrieks louder. Then I remember what I'm trying to be here.

Defiant.

Everything I need to do comes to me in that instant.

Keeth and I still have eye contact, but I nod my head forward. He understands the signal. H looks forward and basically turns his face to stone, hard and undefined. I, on the other hand, give the crowd my highest form of a glare I can muster at this point. Defiance. Defiance is key.

At this point, people are overly excited and throwing hats, streamers, and flowers everywhere. How ridiculous.

A rose comes flying down towards me. When I see it, I snatch it out of mid air and hold it in my hand. Then I think exactly what to do with it.

As the flame creeps up my body and the silver keeps appearing, I stick the head of the rose right in to the fire. When I see it's burning, I hold it up for everyone to see. And then I do something drastic. I throw it over my head and let the burning rose fall in to the runway behind me.

Defiance.

I hear gasps and screams that are indefinable screech out around me. I feel Keeth squeeze my hand a little tighter. I'm not sure what it means.

Finally, our outfits seemed to have almost completely burned away. The fire is up to our necks nearly, but I can't feel anything. Just after it burns away the last of our collars, it does something strange.

The fire, as if it's alive and aware, wraps itself around our bodies and grows to consume our whole body. The flames eventually come around and only cover our back. I can see what it's doing to Keeth out of the corner of my eye so I only can assume it's doing the same to me.

When it's on our backs, it grows tall, high in the air probably double our height. I hear the crowd ooh and ahh around us as it does. Finally, it rolls off of our backs and floats up in to the sky then I hear it make a loud _CRACK! _like a firecracker and make a flash. And then it disappears.

The crowd goes wild all around us. As our chariot pulls in next to the others, Keeth and I raise our arms high in the air, but we don't smile. Not at all. I feel a sense of victory.

Our chariot pulls up next to the District 11 chariot. I feel all the eyes of the other tributes go to us, but  
I don't dare look. I keep my eyes up on the balcony where our wretched president will be standing.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, he takes his place. President Vanasby just has a cold look about him. He has jet black hair that is slicked back against his head and he has a goatee. His suit is black to match with gray pin stripes going up and down. His skin is pale and his eyes are dark. If you didn't know better, you think he looks like a vampire with his sinister smile. I'm not entirely convinced he's not. He does seem blood thirsty after all.

He shushs the hysterical audience with a motion of his hands. When everyone gets quiet, he puts his hands behind his back.

"Tributes," he starts in his chillingly aggravating voice. "We welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice." I mentally scoff at him and give him the piercing glare I've been practicing since we arrived in the Capitol.

He puts his hands out, as if presenting something. "Happy Hunger Games!" he yells.

And I swear he looks directly at me as his mouth curls in to a vicious smile and he says, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

...

Our chariots get taken off the runway and we're all getting off. All of us tributes are in the same room for the first time. It's the first time we truly get to size each other up in person. It makes me nervous, having all of their eyes on me. At this point, I'm sure everyone's staring at us. There's no way our display from the stylists went unnoticed. I'm not sure if I should thank them for that or not.

I first catch eyes with the girl from District 11. As she steps down from her chariot, she looks over at me and sees me looking at her. She smiles at me, not trying to appear as a threat and gives me an impressed thumbs up. It catches me off guard for a second, but I try to smile back.

The next thing I notice is the boy from District 2. He's not only looking or just glancing at me. He's _staring_. But it's not a glare, one of hatred or envy or malice. I can't put my finger on it. It looks almost like curiosity. Almost like... recognition? No. It can't be. I try to shrug it off.

I can see a few glares from some of the other tributes, but nothing too menacing. It looks more like envy than hate. No one looks like they want to kill me. Not yet anyway. I'm sure the Capitol will put it up to one of them. The thought makes me shudder.

As I step off the chariot, I keep looking over my shoulder to make sure no one's watching me. I don't watch where I'm going and suddenly, I crash in to someone. I can only determine that it's a boy after I see him for a split second before I lose my balance and fall backwards. Instead of falling and hitting the ground hands catch me on my waist. His hands.

I reach out and hold on to his arms while his hands stay on my waist. My stomach flutters for a second out of embarrassment. I look up to see who it was I ran in to and who it was who caught me. Then I realize who it is.

It's the boy from District 3, the one who stood out to me in the reaping. The one who drew me in with only is gaze that screamed trust.

My breath leaves me. His hands slip around my waist on to my back as he pulls me back up to my feet. When we're standing again, I see he's much taller than me. We still kind of hold on to each other for an extra minute, mostly me out of the need to be steady. I find it hard for me to break my gaze up at him.

Finally, he smiles at me. "Careful," he says as he gently pulls his hands away from my waist. I let go of his arms. Without another word, he walks away.

I stand there like an idiot until Keeth comes over. He looks bewildered. "What was that?"

I feel my cheeks turn red. "I don't know..." I stutter. "I fell and... and he just..." I fall silent.

He shakes his head. "Don't falter like that," he tells me. He puts his hand on my back and starts guiding me away from the chariot. "Come on," he says. "Time to go."


	9. Chapter 9

We're taken back to where the tributes sleep, stay, and eat when they're not training or doing anything else. The whole car ride back, Effie gives an overly excited spiel about how since we're from District 12, we get the top floor, which is the penthouse. I tune out most of it as I stare out the window. I'm pretty sure Keeth does too.

When we finally arrive, I go to my room without another word to anyone. I'm too distracted by the adrenaline of what just happened.

I pulled an unheard of stunt at the tribute parade. Our outfits were unheard of too. What did the Capitol think of this? Were they shocked? Mad? In awe? I didn't even know if I wanted to think about it.

And what about the other tributes? What did they think? Were they angry too? I may have just put the biggest target on my head ever. Was I threat to them? Or just some stupid girl from District 12 who pulled an idiotic stunt that will just get her killed in the long run? I don't even know.

All I know is that I did what I did and now it was over. I don't know if I should try to make amends or go along with what my defiance told me to do. It wasn't that big of a deal, was it? Maybe it was. I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is our first day of training. That's the first time we'll see all the tributes, where we'll all be together. My stomach drops.

I don't want to think about it. To take my mind off of it, I start to explore the insane room that I realize I stepped in to. Everything in here is weird.

The bed is a perfect circle with a deep green bedspread over it with the most interesting shape of pillows. There are futuristic lights hanging from the ceiling brightening the room. I walk over to the bathroom. The bathroom is weird too. Some things look normal, but the shower certainly isn't. It looks like it has a hundred different miniature shower heads come out from all ends of the shower itself. There's a little machine with a touch screen in it too. I don't know what it's for. There's also a full body blow dryer. I didn't even know here was such a thing.

After I finish investigating everything, I decide to attempt to take a shower. When I turn on the water, I'm drenched in half a second from the million sprayers there are. When I blink the water out of my eyes and look around, I don't see soap or anything.

That's when I remember the little machine. It must be water proof because when I touch it, it comes on. I start to press random buttons and three different bottles of shampoo come out a little slot all at once. I figure that's where the soap must come from. After playing around with it and figuring it out for about twenty minutes, I get a suitable shampoo, conditioner, and soap to use. I use ones that smell like wild strawberry. It reminds me of the ones Cintia and I would pick by the gate when they would bloom. I feel a tear well up in my eye as I remember that I'll probably never feel that again, but the tear gets lost in the water of my shower.

After spending about an hour in there trying to figure it all out, I step out. I look for a towel, but there is none. I step in to the body dryer instead. When I turn it on, it's one of the weirdest sensations I've ever felt, but I'm dry in a minute. It's safe to say everything about this place is weird.

When I get out, I go in to my room and open the drawers and closet. There's an array of clothes that could probably fit any taste. I settle for a blue t-shirt and sweat pants to sleep in.

When I sit on the edge of my bed, I run my hand over the soft, luxurious fabric. I see a small remote on the side table. I gently pick it up and start to press the buttons curiously. Soon, the wall in front of me turns in to the scene of an overview of the Capitol.

I smirk. My mother told me about this. You could put different images on the wall of anything you'd like. And I know exactly what I want.

As I fiddle with the buttons more, I finally find a wooded scene. It makes me smile.

I set the remote down and don't bother to turn it off. I press a button on the wall behind me to turn off the lights. I crawl under the covers. I don't even bother to take off my Mockingjay necklace. Only when my head hits the pillow do I realize how exhausted I am.

I don't even answer when I hear a knock on my door. I just lay and keep my eyes closed. The person enters the room anyway. By the way the person's feet hit the floor, I know it's Keeth. He has a distinct walk.

I can hear by his footsteps that he's walking on the right side of my bed. I'm lying on my side, relying only on my right ear at this point since my left is pressed against the pillow. I still have my eyes closed.

He stops. I wonder what he's doing but then I feel it. I feel the pressure of both his hands on the mattress, one on each side of me. He's leaning right over top of me. I can feel him staring down at me. Suddenly, he leans down close to my ear. "I know you're awake."

I don't move. I don't want him to know I'm awake. I don't feel like talking. I just want to sleep.

I feel the pressure of his hands release on the mattress. I feel relief, thinking he's about to leave, but I'm wrong. He sits down on the side of the bed next to me. I feel his hand gently grip my shoulder and then he carefully rolls me on to my back so I'd be looking up. I don't move so it doesn't look like I'm awake. "Come on, Colemet." I still stay still.

He doesn't shake me or anything. Instead, he carefully puts his hand on my chest, right over my heart so he can feel my heart beat. He leaves it there for a second. Then he leans his head down and listens to it beat. "Well, I can hear your heart beating, so I know you're at least alive."

He knows how to make me laugh. I can't help but laugh at that, revealing the fact that I'm awake. When I open my eyes to face him, he's smirking down at me. "I knew it," he says.

I shove him on his shoulder, still half laughing. "What do you want?" I say with a yawn.

The smirk fades from his face. "After the parade, you ran up here pretty fast without making another appearance. Is everything ok?" he asks me.

I pause and sigh. We just look at each other for a minute. His eyes are piercing in to me, like he knows something wrong, which he probably does. But instead, I grit my teeth and say, "Nothing. I just want to sleep."

I expect him to argue or question me or something like that, press on about it, but he doesn't. Instead, he just looks at me with raised eyebrows for a second. "Alright," he says. "Goodnight." He stands up and leaves without another word.

That's the last I hear from him for the night.

…

The next morning, we're woken up and we go down to breakfast. I get up and throw on a green sweater over a white short-sleeved shirt and some khaki pants. I brush through my long, tangled blonde hair then go down to the dining area.

When I get down there, I see I'm the last one to arrive. Everyone else, including my parents, Effie, Haymitch, our stylists, and Keeth, are all already sitting there, being served by the Avoxes.

The Avoxes make me feel uneasy whenever I'm near them. They're living proof of the Capitol's cruelty, enslaved to serve others like us who are stuck in the cruelty as well. I shudder as I sit down next to Keeth and one of them puts a plate in front of me.

I start to eat. Keeth smiles over at me. "Morning, sleepyhead," he says. "We were starting to wonder if you'd ever get up.

I crack a smile at that. "Well, I'm awake now." I look to my parents and Haymitch as I eat my fancy Capitol breakfast. "So what's on the schedule for today?" I ask.

"First day of training," Haymitch tells us as her reaches for the butter. "Today you'll go in to the training gym with the rest of the tributes so you can practice your skills and train for the Arena."

I'm familiar with the concept. I know what we have to do. "Any advice?" asks Keeth.

Haymitch looks up at us. "Don't show what you're good at. Save it for the Gamemakers."

I question him. "Then how are we supposed to—"

He cuts me of. "Listen," he says. "The other tributes will be watching you. They'll be pointing out your flaws, your weaknesses, and what you're good at. They'll use it all against you in the Arena. It's best not to show what your good at so they can't use it against you. Now's when you have to decide what you want to be seen as: weak or a threat."

Weak or a threat.

I sometimes don't give Haymitch enough credit. He's a lot wiser than he appears to be.

Weak or a threat.

We stay silent. I think hard about his words. What do I want to be? What should I be seen as so it can work to my advantage?

If I'm weak, people will automatically target me easily. But then again, if I'm a threat, people will also target that. It seems like a lose-lose situation to me. I sigh and try to figure out what to do.

I'm still thinking as we're taken to the training center. Before we go in and face the other tributes, we put on our training outfits with our District number on the sleeve. Hopefully it'll help me be able to spot Keeth a little easier, though I doubt I'll leave his side anyway.

We go in to the training center finally. All of the tributes are already there, gathered around the head trainer, Alata. She's the daughter of the former head trainer, Atala. I guess she wasn't too creative with a name.

She starts speaking. "In two weeks, twenty three of you will be dead." He opening statement makes me cringe. Even though the Games are quickly approaching, I want to put off thinking about it as long as I can, but now that we're in the training center, it's twice as hard.

Alata keeps speaking, but I kind of zone it out as I glance around at the other tributes. I see the girl from District 11 paying close attention. I realize I probably should, but I still don't.

District 2 boy still looks familiar. So does the District 4 boy. It's going to eat at me until I figure out where exactly they're from.

I see some other tributes. A young girl from District 7. Two tributes appearing to be twins from District 8. Extremely in shape tributes from District 10. There are many others too.

I see the District 3 boy again. He's really recognizable to me at this point, stands out in the crowd. He's looking around just like me. I catch his eye and he catches mine. He grins at me, but I quickly turn away.

I turn so quickly that I twist and hit Keeth next to me. He catches me with his arm around my waist, then steadying me. He gives me a curious expression. "Are you ok?" he asks in a low voice.

I quickly straighten my training shirt and brush myself off. "Fine," I answer quickly. He slightly narrows his eyes at me but then turns his attention back to the trainer.

Alata is saying something about survival skills, but I keep finding myself stealing glances out of the corner of my eye at the District 3 boy. I don't know why. I don't even know his name.

"…10% from infection, 20% from dehydration," she goes on. "No fighting with other tributes either…" I'm still not paying full attention. I just think if necessary, I'll have Keeth recap for me.

Finally, she releases us to start training. All of the tributes seem to scramble in all directions, going to the training station they want first. I stay standing there, considering where to go.

Keeth puts his hand on my shoulder. I turn to him. "I'm going over to the edible plants station. I'll see you in a few." Before I can stop him or protest, he walks casually over to the station.

I'm left standing there. I look around at the stations. Knot tying, combat, obstacle course, camouflage, hunting, and a million other stations surround me. I resist the urge to go pick up a bow and shoot. Haymitch told us not to show our skills.

I eventually decide on the poison dart station. I walk over. No one else is really there except for the girl from District 1. I give her a shy greeting smile. She returns it, more confidently. A Career. But I didn't expect her to be friendly.

I go and pick up the darts. I hear the instructions carefully from a trainer explaining how to load it with the poison, what plants to use, and the best way to throw it. After about fifteen minutes of that, I approach the target with a handful of darts.

I start aiming and throwing the darts half heartedly at the human shaped target, not with much force or effort. The first one hits on the leg part of it. The next one is closer, more on their neck. For the next few, they land in the target area around the heart so it's passable, but now where close to the actual bullseye. I sigh and go pick up more darts.

When I return to my spot, Keeth is standing there looking at my target with his arms crossed. He turns to me. "Is _that _the best you can do?" he asks with that smirk of his.

I shrug. "Not really in to it. Not really trying." I throw another weak dart.

"Did you already decide to be weak instead of a threat?" he asks me. I shrug again.

"Come on, Colemet," he says pleadingly. "Really try."

I throw the dart with a little more force. It's still an average shot.

"Alright, think on this," he says. "We're in the _Capitol. _The evil _Capitol. _We're about to play their stupid Games." I see what he's doing. He's trying to make me angry so I'll throw better. It's sort of working. I throw the dart harder and it hits the target hard. "They stole us from home. From District 12." Another hit dart. Closer to the target. "They're out for us. It was us. It could've been Cintia or anyone else." Another. Even closer to the target. "One of us, if not both of us, will end up _dead._"

That sets me over the top. My rage against the sick Capitol comes out in the dart in my left hand. But instead of throwing it like a normal dart, it spins towards the target. When it hits, it hits hard. And not only that, it's only a half an inch from the bulls eye.

When the moment ends and the adrenaline dies slightly, I realize most of the training gym has gone silent. The girl from District 9 next to me stares wide eyed.

I feel the eyes on me. I feel Keeth's hand on the small of my back. He starts pushing me away from the target and the station. "Come on…" he says. "I think we should move you somewhere else…"

"Where?" I ask.

"Knife throwing."

…

Half way through the walk there, Keeth tells me he's going over to the hand-to-hand combat station, so I finish the walk alone.

I get over to the station. There are two or three people working at it. They all throw their knives at the human targets. Some of them are close to the targets, but others seem to be not really trying too hard. When the training tributes see me, some of them stare at me, almost wide eyed. I guess considering most of them are doing this all half heartedly, my display at the poison dart station was pretty out there.

I guess I've branded myself as a threat.

Oh gosh.

I'm a little distracted by the staring eyes. I guess I'm not really paying attention, and apparently, neither is someone else.

All of a sudden, I hear a male voice yell, "Look out!" behind me. Then I feel strong arms grab me around my waist and pull me backward with such force that we both fall. In the same instant that I'm still aware, I see a knife fly by right next to where my head was.

Upon falling, my body twists around in this person's arms and I land on top of them. I land face down, my head on their chest. Their arms are still holding me around my waist, as if hugging me.

When I push myself up awkwardly while still on top of them, I try to see who saved me. I feel my face flush when I see who it is.

It's the District 3 boy.

His hands are still on my waist as I look down at him. Finally, he smiles. "Hi," he says. His voice is nice and steady. "Are you ok?"

His hands release me and I get off of him. As I sit up, I say, "I'm fine." He sits up too and then helps me to my feet. "Thanks," I say.

He nods. "You're welcome." He holds out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Sate," he says. "Sate Thorne."

I take his hand and shake it. "I'm Colemet," I say. He looks at me expectantly, as if still anticipating something. "Mellark," I finish somewhat reluctantly.

He raises his eyebrows at me, still holding my hand. "Mellark?" he repeats. I nod. He looks like he's going to say something else, but then we're interrupted by three charging Peacekeepers as well as a tribute trailing behind them. The tribute that threw the knife that almost killed me.

"What's going on here?" one of the Peacekeepers ask.

Sate speaks up. He points to the tribute that just approached. "He tried to kill her!" he accuses.

"I did not!" he tries to defend himself. He's from District 6. "It was an accident!" He pushes through the Peacekeepers to get to me. "Are you alright?" he asks with an alarmed look on his face.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I assure him quickly.

"Are you sure?" he asks frantically.

"Yeah, yeah, really, I'm fine," I don't want him to feel bad. It wasn't his fault.

The second Peacekeeper eyes us suspiciously, as if making sure I'm not lying. "Alright," he says, bitterly satisfied. "Don't let us see it again." They retreat. I'm left here with Sate and the District 6 boy.

District 6 turns to me. "I'm really sorry," he says. "Truly, it was an accident."

I shake my head. "It's ok, really. See? I'm fine." I smile.

He returns it and nods. "Ok," he says. He puts his hand out to shake just like Sate did. "By the way, I'm Ross," he says.

"Colemet," I say, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," he says. "But I wish it were different circumstances." I shrug. "Well, I should go. See you around." He walks away.

I turn back to Sate. He's scowling in the direction Ross went. "Chill out, I'm fine," I tell him.

He tries to wipe the scowl then shrugs. "Whatever."

A minute later, Keeth comes over. When he sees me he hugs me. "My gosh…" he says breathlessly. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I say, hugging him back. "I'm fine."

Suddenly, he breaks our embrace and walks around me. "Who threw that knife?!" he asks me, the fury showing through his voice. "I swear, when I get my hands on them…"

I grab his shoulder and lurch him back. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it, it was an accident anyway."

He looks at me sadly. "He could've killed you," he says softly.

"It was bound to happen eventually," I say. I see his face harden. I shouldn't have said that. "I'm sorry…" I mutter.

He looks at me sternly. "Don't talk like that. You'll be fine."

I let my face stay stiff. "If you say so." Before he or I can say anything else, he pushes past me and goes to another station.

That leaves me and Sate again. I forgot he was even there for a minute there. He's looking at me with a weird expression, like he's studying me or something. Finally, he speaks. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asks.

"What?" I say quickly, surprised at the question. "No! I mean… just a friend. A best friend."

Sate raises his eyebrows at me. "Ok…" he looks at me with a smirk on his face. "Careful around here next time," he says. "I really hope you're bulletproof."

He walks off too, leaving me alone.

And out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see the Gamemakers smile.

…

I decide to cool it down with the weapons for right now and go over to the knot tying station. There's only one other person there. It's the girl from District 11, the one who gave me a thumbs up at the tribute parade. She has dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She has olive skin similar to mine, but she's much prettier than I am as far as I can tell.

I go and take the station next to her. She's successfully tied eight accurate knots so far, three of them being in the Difficult category. I'm impressed.

I sit down and start fiddling with some of the easy knots, I have three of them tied in a minute. When the girl sees this, she smiles. "Nice," she compliments me.

I smile and shrug. "Thanks," I say. "Yours are good too."

She shrugs. "Took me a whole fifteen minutes to get them all," she says.

"That's pretty good," I say. "Not bad at all." She smiles at this. We're silent for another minute. I try more knots as she tries hers. I have two Medium level knots soon enough.

"Wow," the girl says as she sees them. "You're really good with your hands. Where'd you learn that?"

I shrug again. "My father taught me how to paint. Art. Things like that, I guess."

She chuckles. "He taught you well." She finishes her fourth Difficult know. She gets it in fifteen seconds flat, not even, I bet. "So what's your name?" she asks me.

I hesitate for a minute. "Colemet," I say. "Colemet Mellark."

She stops and looks up at me. "Mellark?" she asks. I nod. She smiles widely. "That rocks." She goes back to her knot tying. Why does everyone seem to know me but I don't know anyone else?

"Right…" I say. I finish another knot. "So what's yours?"

She looks up. "Milinia," she puts out her hand for me to shake. "Milinia Sower. Nice to meet you." She smiles and I return it.

I remember the reaping video, how she volunteered for her sister. I guess I should find a way to make small talk. "That was really brave of you at the reaping…" I start awkwardly. "Volunteering…"

She shrugs. "The odds certainly weren't in my family's favor," she says. "I did what I had to. Me and Chad are pretty bummed about being thrown in here. I'm sure you are too."

"Yeah, definitely…" I reply back.

"Seems everyone is," she says back. "I mean, you saw the reaping tapes."

Now I'm a little confused. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean, how everyone acted," she explains. "You could see as they were called and going up that everyone was scared to death." She rolls her eyes. "Go figure." She motions around the rest of the room. "I mean, just look at it in here. No one's really in to this. No one wants to do it. No one wants to be here."

I look around and realize she's right. None of us really want to be here at all. "Wow…" I breathe. "You're really right."

She sighs. "I guess so." She finishes her fifteenth knot and stands up. "Well, I should probably move on to something else," she tells me as she brushes her brown hair out of her face. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah…" I reply. "See you…"

As she walks off, she leaves me with her words still haunting me.


	10. Chapter 10

**I kind of realize it's been months since I've posted a new chapter. I'm so terribly sorry...**

* * *

After training for the day, we go back to the penthouse where we're staying. As we go, Milinia's words still haunt me in my brain. I'm probably over thinking it, over analyzing it way more than I should, or probably necessary, but I can't help myself. Every time I try to forget it, to tell myself that it's nothing and means nothing, it finds its way back to the front of my mind. Again and again.

As soon as we get back, I go up to my room to change out of my training outfit. I settle for the clothes I had on this morning for breakfast to wear again. It's not like we're going anywhere spectacular, just dinner.

In a few minutes, once I'm dressed, I hear a light knock at the door. "Come in," I say. The door opens and a female Avox comes in. She looks to only be a teenager. She points to my balled up training uniform on the floor. She's come to collect it.

Just seeing her; dressed in red with her hair tightly pulled back and her mouth closed makes me sad for her. I feel so bad for her. What on Earth could a human being do that was so bad that the Capitol had thought up something as cruel as cutting out their tongue, not enabling them to speak any longer, then making them a personal slave to its twisted people? It makes me sick. I feel like death would be less of a punishment than something this cruel.

I watch her as she bends down to pick up the uniform. As she does, I feel tears burn the back of my eyes. "I'm sorry," I say shakily. She looks back up at me, confused. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

As she straightens herself up again, her mouth forms in to a stiff, straight line and she looks down. She tilts her head to the side and gives a small shrug, trying to comfort me in to telling me it wasn't my fault or there is nothing I can do, as if to tell me that it's ok, even though I know it's not.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and pat the spot next to me, motioning for her to sit. She cautiously looks over her shoulder, as if to look for authorities in fear of being caught doing something as simple as sitting and relaxing for a moment while she should be working and serving me. After a moment, she hesitantly decides it's safe and slowly sits down next to me, as if doing so will set off some alarm or something like that.

I look at her through blurry eyes. "How did it happen?" I ask carefully.

She points to her mouth and shakes her head. No talking.

I walk over to the dresser in the room and open one of the drawers. I take out a pen and a pad of paper. I got back over to the bed and hand it to her. She stares at it for a few seconds and then looks back up at me uncertainly.

She carefully grips the pen and shakily writes out her answer on the page. She holds up the paper to me. It only has two words on it. _Ran away._

"From Panem? From your District?" I ask. She nods. "Which District?"

She writes down the number. _9. _

"Why?" I ask softly. She just shakes her head. I get the feeling that she doesn't want to talk—or write-about it.

"What's your name?" I croak out.

More writing. _Leslie._

I manage my best smile. "That's a beautiful name," I tell her. She smiles at me. A thank you.

I don't know what else to say. Instead, I reach over and I hug her. "I'm so, so sorry," I whisper. I can tell she's surprised at first by my show of affection. She doesn't know what to do. But slowly, I feel her arms come up and hug me back. I smile over her shoulder.

When we break our hug, she looks at me seriously. She points to my training uniform in her lap and then the door. She has to go.

"Ok," I say. She stands up and heads for the door. "Goodbye." I see her turn over her shoulder and faintly smile at me. I smile back.

And then she leaves.

…

I go down to dinner, keeping my mouth shut about the occurrence with the Avox. I wouldn't want to get her into anymore trouble than she's been caused, or worse.

When I come out of my room, Keeth is coming out of his across the hall. He smiles when he sees me. "Hey, hot shot," he greets me. I smirk at him. "Hungry?"

"Starved," I answer. We walk out to the dining area where our stylists, Haymitch, and Effie are already sitting, two Avoxes already serving food. My parents seem to be missing. Keeth and I sit down anyway.

As platters of luxurious food are laid out, Effie smiles widely and starts to comment about it. "The finest in the city," she coos with her Capitol accent. "Even though you guys are only here for a little while, you live high on the life. Wonderful as it can be!"

I roll my eyes at her petty excitement over something as little as food. I look at all of the various fancy dishes. Lamb stew, vegetable chowder, gorgeously arranged fruit cup in a thick syrup, and salads with fine toppings on it. I decide on some beef stew and drown it in gravy and a scoop of assorted vegetables on my plate.

Haymitch starts on his food but eventually looks up at us. "So how'd it go today?" As he starts talking, my parents finally arrive and sit across from us at the table. Haymitch continues. "I heard you had a close call, sweetheart."

My father's face scrunches. "What do you mean 'a close call'?" he asks in a concerned voice.

Haymitch shrugs. "Heard she was almost nailed in the head with a knife." He smirks a little. "Capitol crowd is already calling her Bulletproof."

So the Gamemakers had looked at me. And not only that, they heard what Sate had said.

My mother's and father's eyes widen. "What?!" my mother yells, slamming her hands on the table, rattling our dishes and glasses.

My father puts his arm reassuringly on her arm, slow and gentle. "Katniss, calm down..." he soothes her.

She takes a deep breath then asks as calmly as she can, "What happened?"

I hesitate before answering. When I look, Keeth is looking at me with a questioning and expecting look. I never really explained it to him and I know he's wondering as much as everyone else.

I finally answer. "I went over to the knife throwing station. I wasn't paying attention and neither was someone else, and he threw the knife. It almost hit me, but someone else pushed me out of the way. No big deal." I try to keep it as simple as I can and not give too many details.

Haymitch raises his eyebrows at me and his mouth curves in to a wry smile as he takes a sip of his red wine. "Wow. Way to go, sweetheart."

I chuckle. "Thanks," I say sarcastically.

I glance at my parents. My mother is having a hard time keeping herself contained, but my father is reasuring her silently. "It's not a big deal. I'm fine." I try to help in the reassurance too.

My mother takes a deep breath. "Alright," she says. "Just put it behind us."

I see Jake smirk out of the corner of my eye.

...

We eat the rest of the meal in silence. When I finish and have a wonderful dessert of triple chocolate caked, by which point I'm full beyond a healthy ratio. I turn in and excuse myself to my room.

I'm not alone for too long before I here another knock on my door. I think it might be the Avox girl again, but I'm wrong when I answer and see that it's Keeth who comes in.

I smile at him. "Hey," I say. He doesn't reply and his expression is grim as he sits himself on the edge of my bed. I scrunch up my face in a sort of scowl. "What's wrong?" I ask him.

He shrugs in a sort of way. "Just thinking," he says. After another moments of hesitation, he looks up at my, his light hair brushing the borderline of his striking green eye. "We need to talk."

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "About what?"

He sighs. "The Games."

Exactly what I don't want to hear. I swallow and it gets caught in my throat. "What about it?" I croak out.

"What are we going to do?" he asks.

I sigh. "I don't really want to talk about it…"

"Colemet, we have to at some point!" he snaps at me. I wince slightly. His face softens. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I'm just… anxious, is all…"

I sigh again. "Well, what _are _we going to do?" I ask him. Surely if he came to me he must have some sort of idea in mind.

He shakes his head. "I have no idea…"

We both sit and think about it for a few minutes. As I try, Milinia's words creep back in to my head. Everyone's afraid. We're all miserable. No one wants to be here. No one wants to do this.

Then it hits me.

Almost like the knife.

"Keeth…" I say slowly. He turns his head and focuses on me. "…what if we just didn't play the Games?"

He looks at me as if I'm insane. "You mean just accept defeat and let ourselves be slaughtered?"

"No!" I say, shaking my head. "That's not what I meant. I mean," I cut myself off and look around out of security, just like the Avox, Leslie, did. I lean close to Keeth. "I mean, what if _none _of us played?"

He looks at me as the realization slowly dawns on him. Of what could be. "The other tributes would never go for it," he says. "It's the Hunger Games. Every person for themselves."

I shake my head. "But what if they did go along with it, Keeth?" I say with hope. "You saw everyone in the training center today and the reaping tapes. Every one of those tributes is terrified.." I think about it for a moment. "They're sons and daughters of the former Victors. I'm sure they've heard just as many stories about the horrors of the arena as we have. They don't want to do it anymore than we do." I pause for a moment. "We could do it, Keeth. We could make it."

"That's risky," he says stiffly. "I don't know about that, Colemet."

I almost yell but stop myself just in time. "What's the worst that could happen? We die? It's going to happen anyway. We have _nothing _to lose."

He slowly takes it in and thinks about it. It all starts formulating in my brain right about now, all the ideas and plans, racing at a thousand miles an hour through my head at the hope that we could actually survive this. And even if we didn't, we would be going down fighting.

"It's risky," Keeth repeats.

"I know that," I reply with an even voice.

"But..." he says slowly. "It's worth a shot." My mouth slowly curves in to a grin. So does his. "Where do we start?" he asks me.

"Well," I say, my grin turning itself in to a mischievous smirk. "I have a few ideas..."

...

We wake up the next day for training. My mind is too busy thinking. I don't want to go to breakfast, so I order for it to come up to my room. Another Avox aside from Leslie brings me my breakfast. It's odd, Leslie has been serving me almost this entire time.

I look to the Avox as I sit up groggily in bed and she puts the tray on my lap. "Where's Leslie?" I ask her.

Obviously she can't reply. Instead, she gives a sort of troubled look and then she hastily leaves the room. I think nothing of it and enjoy my muffins and toast with a side of fresh squeezed orange juice. There are a lot of things I hate about the Capitol, but the food is definitely not one of them.

As I'm just about finished and about to change, I hear a knock on my door. Keeth comes in. I grab a blanket and throw it over my shoulders to cover myself since I'm wearing just a tank top and shorts, even if it is too hot in here already. I always feel sort of awkward in my own skin, even though it shouldn't be, especially around Keeth.

Keeth comes in and sits on the edge of my bed. I sit next to him. He looks over at me. "Why weren't you at breakfast this morning?" he asks. He's seems so eager to know why since I know they just finished a couple minutes ago. Maybe he's concerned.

I just shrug. "Not feeling it," I say. "Wanted to be alone."

"You seem to want to be alone a lot lately, huh?" he asks. I don't say anything and just wrap the blanket around me tighter.

"Are you ready for training today?" he asks me finally after a long silence.

I shrug. "I hope so," I chuckle slightly. "I just hope I don't get nailed in the head with a knife before we can actually get to it."

He laughs at that. "Yeah, that would kind of put a downer on my Wednesday." We both break out laughing, pushing each other back and forth like we would always do in the woods when one of us cracked a joke. To my dismay, our laughter eventually dies and the room falls quiet.

There's a silence cutting between us. Keeth tries to lighten the mood in the air. I turn and see him smirking as he gives an airy chuckle. "Colemet, what's up with the blanket?" he asks jokingly. I feel my face turn red. "Come on, it's too hot in here. You're turning red."

Even though I resist for a moment, he reaches up and tries to pull the blanket from around me. I hold on to it and keep it wrapped around me. He playfully tugs at it. "Come on…" he says. "What are you hiding?" Finally, he pulls just a little too hard and I give. He pulls the blanket down and it falls from my shoulders.

When he does, I don't move; I sit there kind of uncomfortably for a second and then hug my legs to my chest. I don't really meet his gaze. Suddenly, I feel his cold hand on my shoulder and then he slides it down my arm. "See? You're burning up," he says. He gives another light chuckle. "No blanket needed."

He stands up and heads towards the door. "I have to go get ready," he tells me. "You probably should too." When he's just about at the door, he turns back around to me. "Oh, and Colemet?" he says. I tilt my head up and look at him. His eyes sort of scan me questioningly. "You don't have to be uncomfortable around me." He turns and leaves.

I sigh as I'm alone. And maybe I don't need to be. It's Keeth, right? It's stupid. I shouldn't have to be.

….then why am I?

…

We get to the training center at about nine o'clock. To my relief, there's no more boring spiels about what we need to do. We've all seen the Hunger Games by now and got an earful yesterday. We don't need it again.

I'm nervous as I float around in the training gym, going from random station to random station. I start at a survival skills station by making a fire. I make one within ten minutes. Next, I try the spears. Turns out I can't throw a spear.

I realize I have a disadvantage with quite a few of the weapons here. I'm left handed, and many of the weapons were made for right handed people. I feel like that didn't just happen by chance, given the Capitol's means of trying to get rid of me.

As I look around awkwardly and nervously at all the tributes in the gym, my plans and thoughts haunting my mind, I'm not really paying attention to the pocket knife I'm handling and end up cutting my finger.

"Whoa…" says a voice attached to a hand that's pulling the knife away from me. I look up. It's Sate. "You might wanna be careful there. You've had a close call with a knife already."

I roll my eyes. "What are you doing over here?"

He smirks. "Trying to prevent you from cutting yourself with a pocket knife. What does it look like?" That makes me laugh a little bit.

And then I remember. My idea. I look around the at the tributes spread out in the gym. I need to get it through to them. Then I look up at Sate. I guess he's the best place to start.

He comes over to me with a clean cloth and starts dabbing the fresh cut on my hand. "Hey…. Sate?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

I'm not exactly sure how to start this conversation. "Well…" I start uncertainly. "Promise not to call me crazy. And hear me out."

He glances up at me with a weird look. "Alright…" I think I may have worried him with what's possibly coming.

I take a breath and hesitate before answering. "What would you say…" I keep my voice low in order not to be overheard, the idea of the high probability of me being watched dawning on me more than ever. "…if I said all twenty four of us could survive the Hunger Games?"

I see it for a second, the same thing I saw in Keeth when I told him. In his eyes.

Hope.

Sometimes I forget that everyone in this room is the son or daughter of a past Victor of the Hunger Games. They've heard as much as I have. They know.

Sate finally responds and continues cleaning the cut, looking down in order not to make what we're saying suspicious. He's good at this already. "…go on…." he prompts.

I start to explain it to him, as quickly and quietly as possible. I realize it's the perfect time to do so because of him cleaning my cut, making it look ok that we're just together by chance and not for some higher purpose. I tell him everything, but carefully leaving out the fact that this all started in my brain because the Capitol wants me dead, trying to make sense of the idea while leaving that concept out of the explanation.

When I finish, taking a breath through my whispers, Sate takes it all in. He takes a deep breath. "Colemet…. Do you know how risky that plan is?" he asks me seriously. I know he's considering it in his head.

"I know perfectly well," I reply. "But it's our only shot. What do we have to lose?" He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "Our lives? Because we'll lose those anyway." He closes his mouth again.

His face is contemplating it. I can see his mind working through it.

"I'm still trying to figure out the entire plan in my head, but if what I'm starting in my head right now is going to work, I'm going to need you." I catch him off guard.

It takes him a while to answer. But finally, he says quietly, "I'm in." He sighs and slowly nods, as if still trying to convince himself. He looks back to me. "What do you need me to do?"

I feel my mouth curl in to a smile. "Well…."

…

I go through the rest of training looking around at the tributes, trying to decide which one to target next. I only have two more days to get everyone on board for this and I only have three of the twenty four on board so far. This might not turn out well. I don't know how I'm going to do it. I can't just go up and talk to people. I'm not very good at making friends.

I'm starting to learn the tribute's names as I hear them. A girl named Violet from District 1, Kerina from District 3, Lily from District 4. The boy's name slipped my mind, but he still looks familiar. A boy named Dominick from District 5, Brutus and Cresta, the siblings from District 8, I vaguely remember a boy named Munstead from 10, and Milinia's brother, Chad, from 11. It's still hard for me to pick them all out in a crowd, but I'm getting better with it.

I decide my next best bet is to talk to Milinia about the plan. She seems a little bit more forward and comfortable around people, she could help me spread the idea of the plan. I just hope she can do it without the possibility of her being dragged down with me if it comes to that.

I spot her over by the edible plants station over my shoulder. I start to head over there, but I turn around so fast that I'm not paying attention. I slam in to someone.

The person is a lot bigger to me, so I'm instantly thrown back on to the floor. The person turns to see who hit them. They look down at me in alarm.

I realize who it is. It's the boy from District 2, the one I recognized from somewhere. I cringe as I look at the six foot blonde haired boy with blue eyes who look extremely more built than he probably should. The cringe feels as if it's connected to a bad memory or something.

He reaches out his hand to help me up and I hesitantly take it. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?" he asks as he pulls me to my feet with ease. "I'm so sorry."

I brush off my training pants. "It's fine, I'm ok…" When I look back up at his face, he stares at mine with a curious expression.

"You look familiar…" he says, his voice sounding far off.

"So do you…" I say uncertainly. I get more sure of myself. "Where I have I seen you before?"

That was a foolish question We live in two completely separate districts. How would I have ever seen him before? Maybe I haven't seen him. Maybe I've just seen his face…

"I don't know," he says. Something behind his voice sounds false, like he does know I've seen him but doesn't want me to know it. "Probably nowhere."

And then it comes to me. Muscular. Blonde hair. Tall. District 2. I've seen him.

Cato.

"Cato…" I mutter almost under my breath. His eyes quickly glance up at mine then go back down. "You look like Cato," I say a little more forwardly.

He shifts his weight. "Uh…" he mumbles. When I don't let up on my stare of recognition, he sighs and surrenders himself. "He was my uncle."

My eyes go wide. "Your uncle?" I ask unbelievingly. He nods almost regretfully. "Then how…." I'm not sure what that question is going to turn out to be. "How do you look so much like him?"

He starts his story. "My father…. was his twin….. They were identical. I look just like my father, so I look like him too…."

Something catches me. "But… this reaping is Victor's children….. Cato…. You're dad…. He….?"

He sighs. "Two years after Cato died in the Hunger Games…. My dad volunteered as one of the Capitol children since our District was as closely allied with them before in order to avenge his brother's death… And he did just that. That's why I'm here."

I feel my jaw drop slightly but I quickly close it. This is almost unbelievable. What are the chances? "That's…" I don't even know what to say.

He holds out his hand for me to shake. "My name is Cameron, by the way."

"Colemet," I say, shaking his hand that's almost twice the size of mine.

"That's a nice name," he says, releasing my hand. "So why do I recognize _your_ face, Colemet?" he asks.

I shrug. I have probably one of the most famous faces as far as Victor' children go. "Which Victor from District 12 is your parent?" he asks me.

"Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark," I say. "They're my parents…."

"You have quite a famous name," he says, instantly recognizing it. I swear I see something flicker in his eyes. I suddenly feel a pang of guilt. And then I realize why.

My parents killed his uncle.

If that doesn't put a touch of awkward on meeting someone new, I'm not sure what does.

"Well," Cameron starts again when I don't respond. "We both better get back to training before we have Pecekeepers on our case." As he walks past me, he pats me on my shoulder. "See you around. Take care, Colemet."

"Right," I say weakly. "See you."

…


	11. Chapter 11

I go through the rest of the day of training, my mind stuck in thought and having a hard time keeping focus on what's really important; getting all of these tributes on our side.

As I try to focus on it, I can't help but worry as well. If even one tribute decides not to be on board, this won't work. Plus, we need to devise this extremely carefully. If anything goes wrong, it will end in disaster. We even need an initial plan in the first place. And we only have two days.

I sit down on a resting bench and sigh, severely distressed. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts and stress that I don't hear Keeth come up behind me. He comes noiselessly, treading lightly on his feet. He leans down close to my ear and whispers, "Boo!"

He catches me so off guard that I jump and fall backwards. He catches me and pushes me back up as he laughs out loud. I punch him in the shoulder. "Don't scare me like that!" I scold him.

He laughs on anyway. "Sorry, but I had to," he argues. He comes around and takes a seat on the bench right next to me. He glances down at my white knuckles as they completely clutch the bench I'm sitting on. He looks back up at me. "What's on your mind?" he asks.

I shrug. "Just everything. Our plan." I turn and look at him seriously. His expression is stiff too, knowing that what I'm about to say is serious and important. "We only have two days, Keeth. How are we going to pull this off?"

He nods solemnly. "We'll figure something out," he tells me. "We're not going down without a fight."

"Easier said than done," I tell him. I lean down and put my head in my hands. "I don't know if we can do this."

"We can," he says as he grabs by my shoulder and pulls me up straight again. "And we will." He motions with his head around the training center. "I've talked to a couple people around here already. They seemed more than happy to be on bored. Their only hesitation was the fact that they could end up dead or worse. Not that we weren't already."

I sit up a little bit straighter. "You talked to people?" He nods. "Who?"

He subtly motions with his hands to the tributes he's referring to. "The girl from Three, the girl from Seven, and both from Nine. Oh, and the boy from Two."

I twitch at the reference of Cameron, but try not to show it. I'm probably being foolish with that anyway. He didn't seem mad at me or have any grudge held over me. Though I fear that it could be used against me in the future.

I push it to the back of my mind and focus on the other tributes that Keeth has talked to instead. I see the girl from Three. She looks older than I am, probably sixteen or seventeen. She has wispy, blonde hair that falls perfectly and effortlessly down her back. She has pale skin and a narrow face. She's beautiful compared to me. I all of a sudden feel slightly insecure.

I try to shake it off and look at the others. The two tributes from Nine are near each other at one of the weapon stations, both holding machetes. The girl has light blond hair that goes to her shoulders and an endless amount of freckles. She's pretty small and sleek. Her partner is a lot bigger than her, with wavy red hair, but also having the freckles too. They both have tan skin from working in the grain fields of District 9. They seem to be getting along well, helping each other. They'd obviously be allies.

Last I see the girl from District 7. She's short and small, obviously very young, probably only twelve. She seems very shy, her dark brown hair framing her childlike face. She looks lonesome until I see a girl walk up behind her and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around and sees her. She smiles. I recognize her as the little girl from District 5 that I remember from the Reaping. They must have become friends, allies. The picture of the two of them reminds me of stories my mother told me, about how her sister, Prim, and her ally in the 74th arena, Rue, would be great friends. It brings a sad smile to my face.

Keeth taps me on my shoulder, interrupting my train of thought. When I look at him, he motions to each of the tributes again, answering my thought to be next question. "Alinia is from Three, Kiley and Sandor from Nine, Cameron from Two, and Michella from Seven." He smiles at the mention of Michella and looking at her. "She's adorable," he says, referring to her being of childlikeness. I smile too.

He adds on. "Cameron said he would tell his District partner, Trexler, about it too." I nod.

Knowing he's covered all this ground with the tributes brings me so much relief, especially when I've slacked and done nearly nothing.

Keeth sees my relief. "See? We'll be ok." I try to nod, but it's to assure myself more than him.

When Keeth sees this, he puts his hand on my chin and gently turns my head his way to look at him. "You can do this, Colemet." His mouth slowly curls in to a smile. "You're Bulletproof, remember?"

I slowly turn my mouth in to a smile too. "Yeah, I remember," I reply.

"Good," he says. He stands up and brushes his hands off on to his training pants. "I've gotta go and keep training." He shifts his glance around the room to the Peacekeepers then up to the Gamemakers balcony, where they all watch us intently. He glances back at me. "Don't want anyone to get suspicious," he says quietly with a fake nervous tone. After that, he smiles and winks at me before he walks away.

After seeing him and talking to him, I can think clearly now. This plan has to go through. It will go through. Luckily, Keeth has been pulling the wait. But now it's my turn. And I know just where to start.

Milinia.

…

I set my mind straight as I set my path towards Milinia when I see her at the snare station. She's the only one over there aside from one other boy. After taking a second look, I realize it's her brother. I finally make my way over and stand next to her. "Hey," I say forwardly.

She glances up at me then back down at her rope snare that she's constructing. Her brown hair falls down off her shoulder. "Hey, Colemet," she says. "What's up?"

"I really need to talk to you," I say, just coming out with it.

This makes her stops. She looks up at me, reading my face and knowing it's serious. She stands up and brushes her hands off on her training pants and tucking her hair behind her ear. As I glance behind her, I can see that my statement even caught her brother's attention. He glances up but then looks down again, as if not to impose.

She catches me glancing at him. She turns and looks. "That's Chad. He's my brother." I nod in acknowledgement. "So what's going on?" she asks me.

I take a deep breath and keep my voice low. "I've been thinking about what you told me the other day," I start to explain. She looks confused. "About how no one wants to be here," I remind her.

She nods but still looks confused. "What about it?" she says, obviously not think as much of it as I did.

"So it came across my mind…." I go on. "What if all of us could survive this?"

She looks taken aback for a second at the idea. _That _catches her brother's attention. I figured as much that he'd be eavesdropping on us. He stands up and comes over and stands next to Milinia. He narrows his eyes. Milinia crosses her arms. "I'd say that'd be great but….. how is this related to what I told you yesterday?"

"Think about it, Milinia," I say. "You said _no one _wants to be here. We're all Victor's children. We all know the horrors of the arena. _No one _wants to fight. So what if we didn't?"

I can tell she's thinking about it and so is Chad, his shaggy brown hair that matches Milinia's down in his thoughtful eyes. "Do you have a plan?" he asks.

I nod. "I'm working on it."

Milinia is quick to speak up after that. "I don't care," she says. He mouth slowly curls in to a mischievous smile. "I'm in."

We both look to Chad. He seems hesitant and shy. Finally, he slowly nods. "Me too."

I smile wide and quickly hug both of them before the Peacekeepers or Gamemakers can see. "Ok," I say, getting back to business. They both look at me, intently paying attention. "If this is going to work, we need to alert _all _of the tributes and get them _all _on board. It's the only way."

Chad and Milinia look at each other with mischievous smiles, as if they're used to this kind of ordeal. At the same time, they look back to me. It must be a twin thing. "We're on it," Chad says. Him and Milinia give each other a low high-five and he heads off towards a far corner of the training gym towards tributes. I smile and feel relief at the progress.

Milinia stays behind an extra moment. "You can do this, Colemet," she says. "This can work."

"And it will," I say, finally becoming more confident. "It has to."

She winks at me. "Good luck," she says just before heading off.

I take a deep breath and mutter to myself. "Here we go…"

...

I completely forget about training for the moment. My only priority is getting everybody on board with this plan. It's hit me in the face how important it is right at this moment. My life depends on it. All of our lives depend on it.

After all, this is the Hunger Games.

...

I decide to target the two twins from District 8 first. For being from District 8, where they only make clothing, they're pretty in shape and muscular. They seem to work well together, messing around and rough housing as they make progress on their training. They have a level of comfort that I wish I possessed. They're confident. I'm not.

And that could mean bad news for what I'm about to try.

I swallow my fear and walk as confidently as I can manage over to them. They're wrestling each other. It's hard to tell who's winning.

I stop in front of their mat and wait for them to notice me. They don't, too wrapped up in their training and laughing about it. Finally, I take it upon myself and say, "Hi."

Both of them turn their heads to look at me. When the boy sees me, he scoffs and turns to his sister. "Oh look, it's that girl who was almost killed by the knife before we even GOT to the arena," he says smartly. "The Mellark girl." They both snicker.

I'm taken aback very quickly by how rude they are to me. I underestimated earlier how hard this was really going to be. I don't know how to respond to their cocky persona.

The girl looks at me expectantly. "Well? What do you want, Mellark?"

"Uh..." I stutter, forgetting the words entirely now. I shift my weight a little uncomfortably. They look irritated with my presence and I suddenly feel like turning and just walking away.

"I..." I try to start, my nerves shaking me a little, telling me that this is going to end badly.

"Gosh, she can't even speak," the guy sneers. The girl laughs. They're seriously being jerks to me right now.

Their cruel attitude sparks me up. "You know, I actually came over here to TALK, not be laughed and sneered at like nothing," I say with a new found confidence.

Now they look taken aback by my sudden outburst. They weren't expecting that at all, and I'm glad I caught them off guard. They deserve that.

I cross my arms. The guy stands up and comes toward me off the blue mat. "Who do you think you are?" he growls at me.

I raise my eyebrows. "I THINK I'm a human being who at least deserves your attention and respect for half a minute," I say forwardly.

He raises his eyebrows too. That made him angry. But before he has time to say anything else, I feel a familiar hand on my shoulder. "What's going on here?" says a voice behind me.

I turn and see that it's Keeth. The District 8 boy stands up straighter as he surveys Keeth. He motions his head to me and then speaks to Keeth. "Is this _your _little girlfriend?" he asks with a scoff.

"No," Keeth answers. "But I'm the person you'll have to deal with if you do anything to her." He keeps his tone calm and steady, which only intimidates, not to mention infuriates, the District 8 boy even more, especially since Keeth is just as muscular as and a little taller than him.

"Is that so?" says the boy mockingly.

"You heard me," Keeth answers him. As him and Keeth size each other up a little more, I finally get a good look at the two twins. The boy is tall and muscular, but still not as tall as Keeth. He has curly brown hair and he's pale. He has a strange scar down his right cheek. His eyes are so dark that they're nearly black.

Being twins, he and his sister show much resemblance. She has the same curly brown hair, but her face is more slight and narrow than his. She's not as muscular as he seems to be, but she seemed to be holding her own over him pretty well a minute ago. Her eyes are only a little lighter than his, but still pretty dark, like a deep gray color. I've never seen anything like it. I notice that hers look more forgiving than his. It sends a shiver up my spine, seeing him measured up to Keeth like that.

They stare each other down for what seems like hours, but probably only a couple minutes. I'm surprised the Peacekeepers haven't come over to break up the confrontation. The girl and I glance at each other uneasily for a second. Finally, she tries to speak up. "Brutus, let it go."

He sneers. "Shut up, Cresta," he says. "I can handle this."

Keeth rolls his eyes. "I'm not here to fight you," he says. He motions his head to me. "I just came to make sure you were letting her be."

"Really?" he says tauntingly. "What are you, her body guard?" He suddenly reaches over and shoves me. I stumble back, but Keeth catches me. "Let her fight her own battles!"

Keeth steadies me again. His face looks infuriated as he addresses Brutus. "Leave her alone, you jerk! What's your problem?"

Brutus just laughs smugly. "You shouldn't have crossed my path, District 12. You'll be sorry in the arena." His comment is a cross between a warning and a threat. It boils my blood, not to mention Keeth's even more.

"You know, she came over here to help you!" Keeth counters. "Maybe if you wouldn't have been so rude you would've seen that!"

Brutus scoffs again. "Yeah, as if she could do any service for me. Why don't you both just get lost? I'll deal with you BOTH in the arena!"

This finally gets the Peacekeeper's attention. Two of them come charging over. "What's going on here?" the shorter one demands.

Keeth points accusingly to Brutus. "He started yelling at Colemet and then he pushed her!"

"He's lying!" Brutus yells back, blatantly and downright lying himself.

I stand up to defend Keeth. "Keeth is telling the truth," I argue. I point to Brutus. "He really did push me."

One of the Peacekeepers shakes his head disapprovingly and warily, like he's tired of doing this all day. He harshly grabs Brutus's arms. "Come with us, kid." They start dragging him away.

He's not about to go down without a fight. "NO!" he screams in protest, struggling. The Peacekeepers don't waver their hold for a second. He struggles yet and screams again. "I'LL GET YOU BOTH, DISTRICT 12!"

Despite my boiling blood of anger, it sends a chill through my veins.

...

About ten minutes later, Keeth and I are sitting next to one another on a bench. The Peacekeepers ordered us to take a break from training for a little while and stay out of trouble. I rolled my eyes when they told me that.

I realize I'm doing a very bad job of keeping attention off myself. I've basically gotten myself in to every form of the spotlight you can get in the training center, all unintentionally. I sigh and put my head in my hands as I lean forward on the bench.

Keeth pats my back reassuringly. "It's ok, Colemet," he says. He pauses before speaking hesitantly. "I...I'm really sorry about what happened. I shouldn't have gotten involved..."

I shake my head and sit back up. "Don't be sorry. Thank you for defending me."

"Yeah... But it's the exact opposite of what you're looking for right now," he says uneasily.

I try to reassure him. "It's not a big deal. I'm pretty sure most people won't think anything of it."

"But after the knife incident and now this, you're going to be in the public view way more than you need." He sighs.

I shrug. He's right, but I don't want him to feel guilty. "We'll figure it out. iF I lay low otherwise, I'm sure I'll be ok," I say. My mind finds something else. "The only thing is..."

"The plan," Keeth finishes for me. "Brutus obviously isn't on board."

"And the second we step off of those metal plates, he's out for our blood." Despite me reassuring him that being in the public view isn't that big of a deal as long as I lay low for all else, we both know how bad the fact that Brutus is out for us while we're trying to save everyone. "How are we going to manage this without him? We need everybody."

Keeth shakes his head, deep in thought. "I'm not sure," he says. He shifts his glance, like he always does when he thinks. "Maybe his sister can convince him."

I shake my head. "I don't even know if SHE'LL be on board. Especially if Brutus isn't."

He goes deep in thought again. Finally, his face lights up but then goes dark. He turns to me and looks me dead in the eye, his expression grim and dark. I know exactly what he's thinking.

"No," I say quietly, almost in a whisper. I break his gaze, but his pierces in to me. "We're not killing him."

"Colemet," Keeth tries to make me see reason. "That might be our only option if we want to succeed."

I shake my head feverishly. "No, Keeth," I say more firmly. "That completely defeats the entire purpose of what we're trying to do in the first place. That's just as bad as conforming to the Capitol. We can't kill him."

Keeth's face softens and I can tell he sees my own reason. He snaps out of whatever it is he was thinking, but I can tell the idea was only pushed to the back of his mind. He's not going to forget it that easily. "Ok. We'll think of something."

I nod, glad he's at least gotten the idea out of his mind. "Even so, we have to figure out what exactly we're going to do about everything."

"It's ok," Keeth says. He nods, staring at a certain spot in the floor ahead of him, seemingly distracted by his own thoughts. "I have ideas."

...

I trust Keeth's judgement. He's never let me down or given me bad advice, told me to do something I shouldn't have.

But when he tells me that I should go talk to Brutus's sister, I start to second guess that.

When the Peacekeepers let us back in to the training gym, Keeth and I go our separate ways. He doesn't stay around to help me out with his own suggestion, though I really feel he should.

Before we part ways, he grabs my arm. He leans down close to my ear and whispers. "Good luck," he tells me. He scans his eyes around the training center. "I'll talk to you about it later." And with that, he strides off in the opposite direction.

After my encounter with Brutus, nothing can really faze my confidence anymore as I walk purposefully towards Cresta. That confidence is a little dampened as soon as I realize nearly the entire training gym is staring at either me or Keeth, but I ignore it and keep going.

Cresta is striking a dummy with a sword, right in the heart. Her moves are deliberate and careful. She knows what she's doing. I can't help but wonder where she acquired her skills from. That's not something they're taught in District 8, the textiles district. She must've paid very well attention these first two days of training, which is more than I can say for myself.

I stop in front of her. She doesn't really notice me at first, or maybe she's ignoring me. I think to stand between her and the dummy to get her attention but then I think better of it. Luckily, she notices me before I come to such measures as that.

She looks over me with something of a scoff. "What do you want?" she asks impatiently.

I awkwardly clear my throat and try to remember my confidence. "I wanted to talk to you about earlier," I answer.

She shrugs. "Just forget about it," she mutters.

I step up. "That's not what I meant."

"Look, I'm sorry for what my brother did," she snaps. Her patience is dwindling faster than I expected it to. Her face and voice both softens as she continues. She doesn't meet my gaze and looks down at her feet. "He can come on a bit strong sometimes..."

"Yeah, so can you," I point out, referring to her snippy attitude.

She looks a little embarrassed and blushes. "Sorry..." she mumbles. She finally looks back up. "What did you want to talk about?"

I take a breath of relief, glad she finally is seeing that I have a purpose for coming here. "I approached you two earlier because I had a proposition for you... but you're going to have to trust me." I turn my head and look at Keeth. "And Keeth too."

Cresta looks a bit hesitant and skeptical, her dark eyes narrowing. "What kind of proposition?" she inquires.

I'm careful too. "You have to hear me out," I say. "This isn't a game."

"I believe you," she says. "So talk."

I quickly take a survey around me of the people. Most of the tributes seemed to have already turned their attention away from me. Even the Peacekeepers have taken their eyes off of the "Bulletproof" girl and are more interested in the tributes that are actually training. Once I determine it safe, I turn back to Cresta and start explaining everything in a fast paced whisper. Her face changes as I tell her the story, the ideas.

She has hope.

I forgot for a minute too. Cresta is a Victor's daughter. It may be under a tough, prepared façade, but she isn't too thrilled about this either. She feels the same hope me and Keeth had when we first came up with the idea.

We all survive.

After a long moment of silent after I finish, Cresta finally nods. "This is a good plan."

I nod. "We're hoping," I say. "But we need everyone on board. Including your brother. And after today..."

"I don't know how likely that is," she finished for me. I nod in agreement. "I'll talk to him," she promises. Her face is solemn. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," I say. "I really appreciate it."

Cresta smiles. "You're following in the footsteps of your mother," she says.

That takes me aback. I forgot that she probably already knows who I am, let alone about my parents. "What do you mean?"

"You're starting something," she answers. "Something big. The only difference is you actually know the effect you can have." She looks around. "I'd better go. See you around." She walks off, her curly brown hair flowing behind her, without another word.

She was right and wrong about two things. I am starting something big. I do have an effect.

But I didn't know about either of them.

...

After the long day of training, we finally get back to the penthouse. I'm relieved at the relaxed, luxurious air of the Capitol apartment over the competitive, vicious air of the training center and I'll take it any time.

Once I change out of my training outfit and in to a pair of black pants and a loose gray lounge shirt, an Avox comes and takes my outfit away. It's still a different Avox than Leslie, who has been assisting me since I got to the Capitol. It really makes me wonder.

Where could have Leslie gone? She's an Avox, a servant for the Capitol. She can't have gone far. But where, then? The more I think about it, the more it seems as if something isn't right. To look for answers, I go out in to the stylish living room of the apartment and find Effie sitting on the plush couch sipping some fancy purple drink out of a crystal glass.

"Effie," I say, getting her attention as I lean on the back of the couch.

"Yes, darling?" she asks in her Capitol accent as she turns to face me wearing an escort smile, spilling some of her drink down the side of the glass.

"Where is that certain Avox who's been assisting us since we got here? I haven't seen her around."

Effie's expression turns grim and she sighs. "I'm afraid I've heard she's been executed," she answers.

My heart sinks immediately. The thought of it. I can barely even think right now. "W-why?" I manage to croak out.

Effie looks even sadder. "Something about uncanny and out of work fraternization and interaction with guests here in the Captiol. I'm afraid I haven't heard much else of it."

I manage to tell her thanks and I start to run back up to my room. "Is everything ok, love?" she calls to me.

"Fine!" I say. My voice cracks as I start to feel tears well up in my eyes. I think I hear Effie say something else, but I don't bother long enough to even try and hear what it is.

I make it up to my room and I slam the door behind me as the tears pour from my eyes. Leslie was executed. She was killed and it's all my fault. I shouldn't have ever let her write on that pad to communicate with me. It's all my fault that she's dead. All my fault.

I walk over to the dresser and open up the drawer where I put the pad. The pad is the only thing in the drawer and on the front page of it says _Leslie _sprawled in her handwriting. It makes me want to sob, but I don't. If Leslie's death didn't confirm one thing for me, then it confirmed nothing else.

I'm being watched.


	12. Chapter 12

I let the tears pour out of my eyes at the fact for a few minutes longer, let the sadness try to drain without sobbing and letting them hear. I take a shaky sigh. I look at the pad of paper in my hands and clench it tightly,nearly ripping the corners of the page. Tear streaks run down my face and lightly drop on to the paper, one drop smearing the letter L that she wrote.

With all my pent up rage and sadness, I chuck the pad of paper at the wall opposite to me. It crashes against it,leaving a streaked mark as it falls to the ground. The pages unravel and land in a heap, all still connected to the binding of the pad. I bring my legs up to my chest and hug them. I lay my head on my knees and slowly close my eyes to think.

Was it really my fault? She could've resisted, followed the rules, stayed in line. But how can I say that if I never do the same? Especially when I urged her on the same way. It was all my fault.

Maybe it's better that she's dead. Rather than being a tongueless slave for the Capitol for my entire life, I think I'd want to be dead too. But that doesn't mean she wanted to be.

Even so, my mind can't put a positive spin on this. I just feel miserable.

I go through the rest of the night at the penthouse with a heavy heart, feeling guilty, upset, helpless, but morethan anything, angry.

Now I know I'm being watched. That just proved it. I only have Leslie to thank for that. If nothing else, I've learned that from this wretched experience. And it might just help me more than anything.

Before, long, Effie calls us for dinner. I see Keeth on the steps as we go down. At first, I wonder why I didn't track him down this afternoon to talk to him throughout and despite my turmoil. Maybe I should later. As we go, his hair is wet, so he must have showered. He smiles at me, but when I narrowly weakly return it, his face instantly turns to suspicion. I won't even have to bring it up later; he will.

When we go to downstairs, Haymitch and my parents are already sitting at the grand mahogany table, andEffie is rushing over to it with six inch fluorescent pink heels that match her lipstick, white gloves and a bananayellow dress. Leave it to Effie to wear that. My parents are both wearing plain clothes and Haymitch is deckedout in his traditional navy blue bathrobe.

As we go, I'm careful to blink out the last of the tears and puffiness in my eyes before confronting all of them. I wipe the last of it from my face and sit down, I notice Haymitch staring at me while smirking. By the way Keeth's face is twisted with skepticism, he notices it too. Or maybe it's from what he just witnessed of me on the steps a few minutes ago.

"What?" I finally confront Haymitch.

He gives a smug sort of chuckle as he looks back down at his food, shaking his head. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you, sweetheart?"

My mother nearly chokes on her food. "What?" she says. My father puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. She tries to bat it away sort of and he gives a small smile. It's amazing how anything and everything my mother does gives my father so much delight, no matter what. He just loves every aspect about her that much. I hope someone can love me like he loves her one day.

As this occurs, I can't help but wonder how Haymitch hears all of this and yet my parents don't.

I try to act casual, not meeting his gaze as I take a bite of my food. I eventually catch Keeth's glance. His ownlooks sort of helpless. "What did you hear?" I ask Haymitch nonchalantly.

He shrugs. "Only that you got in a fight with the District 8 thug…" he answers just as casually.

"It wasn't her fault." Keeth automatically steps up to defend me. "She went over to talk to them and he was ajerk."

My mother gives me a peculiar look as Haymitch raises his eyebrows. "What were you doing talking to them?"she asks suspiciously.

I shrug, though my quick wit is eluding me for a second. "Just to be nice, make conversation like a normal human being." There's a hint of attitude in my voice that as a mother, she probably doesn't like. She looks like she's about to say something, but then stops herself once she realizes that what's showing, what she's seeing in me right there is her. She doesn't even question the fact that I'm too unfriendly to do that in the first place, but then again, just like her.

Haymitch scoffs. "Apparently I've taught you nothing," he says, his words slightly slurred thanks to the wine in his hand. "Don't talk to people, sweetheart. It only gets you in to trouble…"

He's probably right. But I dare not mention what Keeth and I really had in mind as far as that conversation goes.

"Well, as long as our little beauty is in one piece," she starts, reaching over and brushing something off my shoulder and pushing blonde hair out of my eyes. "I don't see a problem. Publicity can be a good thing…" She clears her throat. "As long as you don't give us all a bad reputation, darling…" Keeth smirks at what he sees as her ridiculousness.

"Effie's right," I suddenly conclude. "I wasn't meaning to start trouble. But if we can get attention, sponsors, all the more better." I look back down and keep eating my food. When I glance up, everyone seems to be giving me a strange look.

"Well," Haymitch subsides. "That's certainly a new attitude from YOU, sweetheart."

I shrug casually. "The Capitol can do that to you." Keeth's look is the strangest of all, knowing that this isn't me. My other looks concerned too, but my father seems easygoing. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

Suddenly, without warning, my mother stands up. "Peeta." She turns her head and looks at my father. "May I speak to you, please?" He seems confused for a moment but then just gently puts down his fork and follows her our on to the balcony. When he turns to shut the door behind him, it doesn't close all the way.

I'd kill to know what they're talking about.

The rest of us start slowling down for eating and we don't particularly talk much after. Effie is the first to excuse herself from the table, saying something about sorting schedules and dessert. Haymitch goes next, lazily getting up as an Avox clears his place. He takes a bottle of lquor in to the sitting room and passes out on the neon orange couch.

Keeth is the last to go, looking at me and shaking his head. I'll hear from him later, but for now, I'm left alone once he ascends the stairs.

My eyes go longingly to the balcony door. My parents are still out there. What could they possibly be saying? I need to know.

On a limb, I get out of my chair and tiptoe over towards the door. As swiftly as I can, I duck down behind the red velvet curtain and press against it, trying to keep myself from being seen. I hear a loud snort from Haymitch on the couch, a sign that he's still out like a light, which is what I need. I carefully lean as close to the crack in he door as I can, trying to be conspicuous. I start to pick up bits and pieces of my parents' conversation.

"...but Peeta, I don't like this..." It's my mother's soft, distressed voice, but stillstrong through the shilded vulnerability.

"Colemet is strong, Katniss. She can take care of herself." My father pauses, but no one speaks for a minute. When his voice returns, it's low, serious, and meaningful. "She takes after you, you know. She's strong. Determined."

I've always strived to be like my parents, my mother especially. To be the change you want to see in the world. It makes me smile, hearing my father say it, that he truly thinks it is. Not just saying it to me to burst my confidence as his daughter, but genuinely meaning it.

"I hope she doesn't take after me," snaps my mother suddenly. "I don't want her to go through what I did."

My mother never really had too much self-confidence, so her statement doesn't surprise me. It makes me shrink a little bit, as if my mother isn't proud of what I've become. I keep listening.

"We're trapped in the Capitol, Katniss," he says, his voice frail and dejected. "She doesn't have a choice. And neither do we." Another pause. I hear a sigh. From my mother's lips or my father's, I can't tell. My father's voice picks up again. "But just like you, Colemet's going make it out unscathed."

My mother is right on the response, not missing a beat. "Peeta, I'm not so sure...I don't want her broken, hurt, or..."

My father abruptly cuts in. "Katniss," he says softly, his voice like smooth honey that can calm my mother's nerves to about any point. "You trust our daughter. Real or not real?"

A sigh. "...real."

"Eavesdropping, sweetheart?"

The smug voice literally brings me to a jolt, jumping out of my skin momentarily and turning my head abruptly to face Haymitch, carefully kneeling next to me with a smirk on his face and a low, mischivious laugh coming from his mouth. His shake from the sly chuckle jolts his hand, spilling some of the liquor from his glass on to his hands. I should've paid more attention to his seemingly deep sleep...it seems to have ceased, only to my dismay.

I look at him as he comes to a stand, helpless and vulnerable in mystate of being caught, inevitable justice blatantly able to be forseen. I shrink away slightly and cringe at the thought o my parents finding out about this...the Capitol's given me enough trouble already.

"Well?" Haymitch's voice is a flat question, dripping with sleek amusement.

I look down at the ground, now finding trouble in keeping his gaze with mine. "Yes, I was eavesdropping..." I admit.

When I timidly look back up, to my surprise, he's waving his hand dismissively. "Ah, I knew you couldn't resist." He does something between a cough and a gag. He waves his hand again. "Get out of here, kid, before you get in to real trouble with the Girl on Fire herself."

I'm surprised by his mercy on the situation; I figured Haymitch would enjoy my reprimanding by my mother with sick amusement, but I suppose I was wrong.

At this offer, I don't waste any time. I scramble to my feet and dart for the steps. "Thanks..." I mumble to Haymitch as I pass him. He pats my back then lets out a belch as I start ascending the stairs.

I qucikly climb the steps, so quickly that when I get to the top I whirl the corner and ram right in to someone.

Quick reflexes grab me arund my waist and steady me . "Slow down there, or you might not be so Bulletproof." It's Keeth's voice. I collect myself and tilt my head up to face him.

"Hey..." I say breathlessly, out of breath from the adrenaline of the last moment and then all too quickly ascending the stairs.

He chuckles a bit. "What happened?" he asks as he lets go of me.

As I smooth my shirt down as well as my hair, I decide that last occurence is nothing of importance. I turn and walk past him. "Nothing really..." I mumble.

I hear him fall in to step behind me as I make a beeline for my room. Once we're in, I hear him shut the door behind us. "Well, you have some explaining to do as of earlier."

I sit on the edge of my bed. I know he's referring to my puffy red eyes and weak joy just as we went to dinner. I sigh and hesitate.

Keeth becomes impatient. "Well?"

I still wait. I look up at him. His emerald green eyes pierce my own dull gray-blue ones. His fringed sandy hair casts a shadow over his face that's both ominous and comforting, so familiar but far away. He needs me to speak; needs reassurance that I'm ok. It's hard to give when I don't even know if I am. I thought I was strong; but an Avox's death was enough to make me break down for a bit, as well as weighing on my mind. I don't want to be weak; am I?

My thoughts get me caught up until I realize it's been a couple minutes. "I..."My voice trails after the simple work.

Keeth throws his hands up and turns away from me. "I don't get it, Colemet!" he yells. He turns back and runs his olive toned fingers through his hair, his expression distressed. "You don't keep things from me! We don't keep things from each other! What's going on?"

I sigh unevenly, trying not to be shaken by Keeth's frustrated yells. I look up at him with sad eyes. "Keeth," I say. "I got an Avox killed."

Keeth freezes, all muscles in his body become stiff. His gaze meets mine, mine helpless and sad, his reluctant and hard. Ever so slowly, he walks over and gently sits down next to me. "What happened?" he asks, his voice quiet; he knows I'm no handling this well.

"I..." My voice trails off like before, but this time, I force myself to continue. "There...there was an Avox that came in here to help me everyday. I tried speaking to her, just trying to be kind...But I think I got her in to trouble...and then Effie told me she was executed...it's all my fault."

I feel my face sullen, now having a hard time meeting Keeth's own comforting look. Instead, he reaches over and wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to him for comfort, radiating warmth from his body like a hug, being exactly what it is. "You know..." he says. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," I snap an arguement back instantly. "I should've let her be. She would still be alive if it hadn't been for me."

"Maybe she's better off dead," Keeth says stiffly.

I know he meant well, but that's not how I percieve it. "How could you say that?" I say, my voice almost angry. "You didn't know her! Slave to the Capitol or not, it doesn't mean she would rather be dead!" I take another shaky breath and try to calm my voice, sadness still evident. "She was young, Keeth. She couldn't have been any older than you."

I feel Keeth nod. "I know. But killing yourself over it isn't going to help any situation." He rubs my shoulder and hushes his voice. "What we're doing here, what we're starting...it's a war, Colemet. People are going to die in war. That Avox-"

"Leslie," I point out.

"-was the first," he continues. "She's a sign that there'll be something more. That what we're doing isn't for nothing. I know you feel weak, but..." he pauses, "you're actually stronger. And we only have Leslie to thank. In the long run, she's going to push you forward."

Keeth always knows exactly what to say, and he says it just right. Sometimes whether I want to hear it or not, he says it anyway. But I always end up needing it. He knows what I need to hear and isn't afraid to say it like so many other people in my life. And more than that, he's always right.

"Thank you..." I whisper. I feel him hold me just a little bit tighter. Keeth's own hold is comforting enough, his words make it so much better.

He doesn't say anything more. Instead, he lifts me in to his arms and walks to the top of my bed. He holds me steady with one strong arm and pulls the sheets and blankets down with the other. He gently puts me down on the soft, plush bed and silk sheets, gently guiding my head on to the pillow with my hair falling over it in a long, blonde cascade. He starts to pull the sheets over me and I turn my head to face him. He doesn't meet my gaze. "You need rest, you've had a long day." This time, his gaze upturns to mine. "Besides, we both have quite a lot of thinking to do." I understand his message with that one.

He walks to the door, and shuts off the lights. Instead of leaving like I expect him to, he walks back over to the bed, moving swiftly like a ghost, his dark outline in the fallen night. I feel the pressure of him sit next to where I lay. I feel him gently run his fingers through my hair, rhythmatically and soft. Neither of us say anything for a long time, just sitting and thinking.

I don't want to think. I know anything I try will haunt me, worry me, make me tense; I won't sleep. Instead, I work hard to clear my head, forget everything and focus on what's around me, starting small; the plush pillow my hand is resting on, Keeth's being of comfort and warmth next to me, the crack of dim light under the door, the shapes of the room through the thick darkness, Keeth's fingers comfortingly running through my blonde waves.

Eventually, I feel my eyes become eavy and drift shut, the room closing in around me in a swirl of exhaustion. I hear Keeth's voice, distant, but I know he's close to my ear.

"Remember, Colemet. Tomorrow will be kinder." He kisses my temple.

Then the world fades to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

I wake up in the morning, alone in my bed seeing as Keeth left once I was asleep, and slowly open my eyes, caked shut somewhat from sleep, tears, and too much thought. When I open them completely and stretch, I notice a sinking feeling in my stomach, something empty or haunting. And then I realize.

Today is the third day of training.

The last day of training.

Tomorrow starts the Games. I may die tomorrow.

I try to shake it off. No, I'm not going to die. Our plan is going to work. Keeth has faith in it, and so do I. But do I really have as much confidence as I'm trying to convince myself?

Don't think about it like that, I tell myself. Just focus.

I drag myself out of bed, receive the day's training uniform from an Avox, and go down to breakfast. Nothing too eventful occurs, cut and dry, everyone tense from the idea of the last day of training. Everyone but Haymitch, who's hung over. Even Keeth is quiet as he picks at his breakfast.

Eventually, I go back upstairs after the monotonous routine, Effie barking a schedule at me that I couldn't care less about. I change in to my training uniform and braid my blonde hair in a make-shift way to the side. Soon after, I hear a knock at the door. "Come in," I call casually.

I expect it to be Keeth, but I'm wrong. It's actually Jake. He gives me a warm smile when he comes in; the expression radiates trust and comfort. "Hey," he says. "I need to talk to you."

"Alright." I sit on the bed and pull my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees and motioning for him to sit. "What's up?"

"Tonight's interviews," he tells me, sitting down.

Oh no! I completely forgot interviews. "Oh, shoot! I don't have anything—"

Jake holds up a hand to stop me. "I've taken care of your dress." Somehow, I see a sign of a wry grin form behind his eyes when he tells me this. I don't know if I should be worried... He continues. "I just need exact measurements." He takes a measuring tape from his pocket and displays it in his hand.

"That's fine," I agree, standing up so he can measure what he needs. I hold my arms out horizontally as he goes to work.

Interviews. I completely forgot interviews. What will I say? I'm not likable, and I hate the Capitol. I don't want to act as their stupid puppet on a string. I consider my dress as Jake takes measurements.

I watch him intently, measuring down my arm. He's so careful, so deliberate, so focused. I sometimes wonder how he does it. He lifts the bottom of my shirt and takes the measure of my bare waist, making me realize how exact he is as well. I respect him for that.

He drops the measuring to tape for a second and scans me up and down. His eyes hover on my chest for a minute, then up to my eyes. "I don't think that'll be as easy your waist was..." he muses sarcastically.

I roll my eyes and chuckle, "No, not really." He comes over and wraps the measuring tape around my bust anyway, being careful. "...hey Jake?"

"Yeah?" he asks, not looking up.

I go on anyway. "How am I supposed to do the interview?" It sounds like a stupid question, but I really need an answer.

At that, Jake chuckles, still not looking up from taking measurements. "Well, you walk onstage, get asked questions, and you answer them using words. I suppose it's not as hard as you may think." He pulls the measuring tape, looks up, and smirks.

I roll my eyes. "I understand the obvious. But-"

"You should also speak-"

"English? I know." I roll my eyes again, but then look at him desperately. "Please, Jake. You have to help me."

Jake's gaze turns serious, but a light smile creeps across his face. "Just be yourself. Honestly, it's not as hard as you think. Just put on a show. Besides…" He walks in a circle around me, harmlessly taunting, throws my hair back a little and leans close to my hair, whispering, "I hear you're pretty good at that."

That somewhat stops my heart, but before I panic, I know there could be a million things he's referring to. Maybe almost being hit by the knife, the tribute parade, the fight in the training center, but….paranoia keeps its presence.

"Well…" I say uncertainly. I come up with a defense. "Interviews are all about getting other people to like you, for sponsors, correct?"

Jake nods, wonder in his eyes about where I'm going with this. "Correct…"

My point exactly. To him, it sounds simple. "How do you make people like you?" I ask frantically.

Jake laughs. "From what I understand, you're just like your mother." He smirks and looks down absently, as if thinking over this knowledge. "She had the same problem, didn't she? Didn't know how to get people to like her?" I nod. He goes on. "And she made an entire nation root for her. What makes you think you won't do the same?"

"My mother is one in a million," I say quietly, patiently. "I'm just another statistic."

Jake considers this, and then looks back at me. "But you don't have to be."

Now I take this in to consideration. Can I really change what this evil has placed upon me? My mother did, but…I think that's different. Maybe. Maybe I can change it.

When I don't respond, Jake backs towards the door, drifting as if on air. He turns his back to me. "I'll have your dress ready after training. Good luck today." And with that, he goes, leaving me alone.

I still have no clue what I'm going to do for the interviews.

…

Our last day in the training gym. Our last day to train.

Possibly the day before I die.

The last day to try and save our lives.

Keeth stands next to me in the middle of the training gym. We do a 360 around the room, surveying all of the tributes, seeing if we know everyone, admiring our work and what we've done and what we've hopefully accomplished. We start firing off names of all of the tributes quietly to one another.

"District 1, Maxwell and Arabella."

"District 2, Cameron and Trexler."

"District 3, Sate and Alinia."

"District 4, Gill and Lily."

"District 5, Emile and Melody."

"District 6, Ross and Lydia."

"District 7, Mars and Michella."

"District 8…Brutus and Cresta..."

"District 9, Sandor and Kiley."

"District 10, Henri and Izatel."

"Distict 11, Chad and Milinia."

"And then us."

We have the entire lot. We shot off Chad and Milinia's names quickly—they're our closest allies. Any slack Keeth and left, they picked up. Without them, this couldn't be a possibility.

But when we came to District 8…we hesitated. We're still not on exactly good terms with them. Cresta offered help, but once Brutus returned, that seemingly drained away, leaving us with a kink in the long-shot project that may cost us everything. But with them, there's not going back.

I gulp.

Keeth puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, almost as if he could read my mind. "It'll be ok, Colemet," he assures me. "You're too brilliant for it not to."

I blush modestly. "Though a kink like them could throw us in to a spiral." He knows exactly what I'm talking about.

He looks at me, his tone pleading for my cave that this is a good idea. "Even so, it's twenty two of us againsty the two of them. We have this."

"But if we go against them, that defeats the purpose of all of this…"

Keeth looks genuinely annoyed now. "Stop it. You're bringing yourself down when you don't need to. It'll be fine."

Before I can argue, he starts leading me towards a training station, building fires, I believe, to make it look as if we're doing something, distract the Gamemakers from suspicion. Keeth changes the subject as we walk. "So what do you have planned for the interview this evening?" he asks me.

I shake my head and shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine…"

He chuckles. "Got nothing?"

I roll my eyes and scoff, picking up wood and bringing it back. "As if you have something better," I provoke him.

He smirks at me. "Actualluy, I do."

I raise my eyebrows at him curiously, teasingly the way we do. "Is that so? I'd LOVE to hear that plan."

He chuckles and shrugs. "Alright. I'm just going to go for it."

I raise one eyebrow. "That seems no better than my plan." By this time, we're working on making sparks for our fire, only half paying attention, but enough not to cause a freak-Capitol fire.

Keeth shrugs again. "Our only difference is that I'm not nervous."

"I never said I was," I shoot back at him.

"I can see it behind your eyes."

He probably can.

"Nevertheless…" I say bitterly. "I still need to come up with something."

"What you NEED," Keeth interrupts me, "is to not care so much. As if these Capitol people care about us anyway." I take that into consideration as he pauses that thought. "Why does it even matter what they think? To get sponsors? As if it'll help. We'd die anyway. I don't want help from the likes of them."

I don't really reply, his words taking me deep in to thought. He has a good point….a very good point.

And with that, I know what I'm, doing for my interview.

...

Keeth and I successfully make our fire. We stand back and admire our burning work.

As we watch the graceful flames, Keeth leans down to my ear and says, "Pretend that wood is the Capitol." I can't help but snicker.

After another minute of silence, I feel Keeth nudge my side. When I glance at him, he motions his head to the side. When I discreetly look, I see a young girl, probably only twelve years old, a bit younger than me. I recognize her as the tribute from District 7, Michella. She's glancing at us from behind a pillar. "Looks like we have a shadow…" Keeth whispers.

That's when I notice the hidden figure behind her, almost successfully staying behind. "Or two…" I breathe back to him. I lock glances with Michella and see her partner, her friend I always see her with in this training center, the comparison of Prim and Rue. Her friend is from District 5, Melody.

I smile warmly, reassuring Michella as she stares. I motion them gently to come forward, an attempt at a nice gesture, just as Melody starts to emerge from behind her. Keeth watches me intently.

They both come slowly forward. They're both short and pale as can be, skinny and carrying childlike charm that I sometimes wish I still possessed. Though they share these qualities, they look nothing alike. Melody has fair, light blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, a narrow face with slight features. Michella, on the other hand, has dark hair, nearly black, and black eyes like pits, but not intimidating. Her features are sharp and defined. They're both cute. Melody will grow up to be adorable, while Michella will grow up to be beautiful. I can't help but feel a pang of envy.

As they come towards us, Melody and Michella look at our fire with straight faces, though their eyes are tinged with awe. "You both did a really nice job with the fire," Michella says. Her voice is smooth and lovely, like butter. Melody nods a slight motion in agreement.

"Thank you," I reply. Keeth nods in agreement the same way Melody did.

… They sit down in front of the fire, looking at it blankly, as if deep in thought, as if we were really outside in the woods gathered around a campfire. As if this weren't the last day of our true lives. Before tomorrow, when our lives change forever or we lose them. Our last day.

Michella speaks to us without looking up. "I wanted to ask you both something."

Keeth and I discreetly exchange glances, but it doesn't really matter since Michella nor Melody are even looking at us, as if we're not truly there, not paying attention. "…what's that?" I ask quietly in response.

She sighs shallowly. "Can you both really save us?"

This time, Keeth doesn't even make an attempt to hide his pure look at me. It's as if our eyes locking passes thoughts between us, something we've learned over time, something that creates a bond between us.

When I move my glance past Keeth back to Michella, she finally looks at me, her black eyes sad but clinging to the hope we bring her. "No," I say. "We can't save you."

At that moment, all hope seems to leave Michella's eyes and she looks away from me. I didn't know if she was listening, but when the disappointment shadows across Melody's face, I realize she was. Even Keeth looks abruptly startled, though his expression remains hard and unwavering. He knows I mean more.

"You didn't let me finish," I say plainly, not putting sympathy in my words towards their sadness. Michella turns her head to me again, the hopelessness melting in to confusion. "We need everyone to save ourselves."

As quickly as it left, the hope floods back in to Michella's eyes, her face, as well as Melody's. Keeth smiles at me, more of a good-natured smirk. A small smile creeps on to Michella's lips, a smile that shows I've reassured her, that she has hope.

She looks towards Keeth, who smiles at her. He's the one who convinced her to follow us, which in turn gave us Melody, as well as her District partner, Mars, and Melody's Emile. Even as I glance around at them training, there's an evident, hidden hope on their faces, one that's got the Gamemakers puzzled in a way they never imagined.

"Hope is the only thing stronger than fear."

My mother told me that. She learned it from the initial evil that brought my family in to this. And now, I'm using their own poison to kill them.

After a bit of silence and our fire dying, Michella stands up. "Thank you," she says. She looks back and fourth from me to Keeth. Her eyes are thoughtful. Melody starts to stand up behind her. Michella sighs a gentle sigh. "You both may not know this, but you were both destined for greatness. I know it. I believe in you both."

I barely know Michella, let alone Melody. But to hear such wise words come from her mouth, it makes her sound a thousand years old. Comfortable, words that you know inside. It makes me feel like I know Michella and that she knows me.

That's all she says, and then she walks away, a silent Melody trailing behind her.

…

I sit on a bench on the sidelines, taking a break and having some water. I really shouldn't be taking a break. It gives me even more of an opportunity to think, and my mind is spinning as it is.

I sigh and let the condensation from the bottle drip on to my hand. I'm way in over my head, aren't I? Nothing will go right. If anything something will go wrong. Maybe I'm just a pessimist.

As I stare out over the training session with a grim expression, Milinia comes and sits next to me.

She's silent for a while before she speaks. "Hi, Colemet," she finally says. "How are you doing?"

I shrug. "I'm ok."

She puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder and tilts my chin up from where it's staring in my lap. "Head up soldier."

And she's exactly right; we're all just soldiers. Just children playing soldiers.

"Stop discouraging yourself, Colemet," Milina says seriously. I look up at her. She smiles softly, her long brown hair falling in her face. "Everyone else has faith; why can't you?"

Once again, she's right. I should have faith does. Keeth does, Milinia does. They're my true friends, my allies. They have faith in this, in me. Why shouldn't I?

I sigh submittingly. "You're right, Milinia. I'm being a drag..." I admit.

She chuckles. "Oh, you're not a drag. But then again, when am I not right?" She smiles and winks teasingly.

I smile at her, chuckling lightly at her joke. After it suppresses, I sit quietly for a minute. I look down and then back up. When I do, I speak finally. "Hey...Milinia? Can I ask you something?"

She nods. "Anything."

I think for a second. "...what are you doing for your interview tonight."

Milinia's silent for a minute, then nods to herself, as if running by it in her head. She shrugs. "Just a laid back, likable approach for the most part, with a little bit of attitude mixed in. Mostly playing it safe, I suppose. What about you?"

Her approach is pretty safe; likable, laid back. It'll get her sponsors. If it even matters...

"Well...something that'll probably get me hated..." I don't really think I want to talk about it yet.

Milinia smirks. "Oh, good move, District 12," she says sarcastically. "Just don't get yourself killed before we even get to the Games, alright?"

I chuckle. "It's a deal."

She stands up. "I ought to get back to it before the Peacekeepers get on our case. Good luck, Colemet, for tonight and everything."

"You too," I reply as she starts walking away.

I watch Milinia go, but as she's walking, she stops and turns around briefly. "Oh," she says. "I know you'll be fine tonight. After all, you ARE Bulletproof."

And with one last smirk, she strides off towards the gym.


End file.
